Talk
by A Carnival Of Idiots On Show
Summary: Max has never spoken. Not after her Mom died. She won't let anybody into her shambling life, afraid to trust again. But when a certain someone finds out about her secrets, will Max be able to ever trust again? Or will she crumble before her own eyes? Story is better than summary. I swear.
1. Intro

I don't speak. The only person I ever really spoke to was my Mom, Valencia Martinez. Now she's dead. She died when I was 13. The funeral, so much black. Black lace, black tears from the eyeliner people caked on their faces, black umbrellas...No color.

It was a torturous day when her body was placed in that grave. The rain dripping down my face, colliding with the tears already streaming down my stained only person I could trust was dead, and I felt like life wasn't as much as It was with her around. Especially because of Jeb.

Jeb was my step dad, married to my mother when I was 7. Since I had no other family, The state placed me with him. And just like that life became a living hell.

I was abused. He punched me, stabbed me, basically hurt me in any way possible. He told me every morning that If I said a word to anybody about it, he would kill me. It was hard, but somehow, I remained still standing.

I never talk, though. Because of the death. Because of Jeb. Because of the bullies at school. Everyone around me thinks I'm a freak. I think about suicide every now and then. But then I look through the album. The album of Mom and Me. It always made me feel happy, like nothing was wrong in my life. But of course, everything was.

**Line Break!**

The alarm punctured my ears, my hands slamming against the snooze button as I slowly rose from my unkempt bed. Grabbing the door to the bathroom, I walked against the cold tile floor, my cuts on the soles of my feet burning from the touch._ School time._

I clutched onto my toothbrush, reaching over for the empty Colgate tube. Managing to squeeze enough of the viscous paste out, I felt the bristles of the brush push against the cuts strewn across the inside of my cheek, opening them up once more and spilling out fresh blood.

Picking up a nearby concealer, I caked my face with the make-up. The distinct purple-ish color of the bruises began to fade under the light strokes of my finger dabbing the goo on my skin.

Now that that was over, I picked up a small hairbrush. Combing out the huge knots wasn't easy, feeling the hurting tugs of the raking bristles. Holding my dirty blonde hair in one hand and brushing with other, I subtracted the pain from the equation. Now done, I strided towards my closet; slightly limping as I went.

My hands latched onto a plastic hanger exposing the black fabric of a sweatshirt hanging down limply. I grabbed a pair of food-stained jeans and put them on swiftly, feeling the fabric of the pants brush against my scars.

I reached forward for a pair of black cotton socks, relishing the soft surface of the stolen sock I retrieved from a nearby Wal-Mart. Sighing quietly, I slipped on a pair of beaten Converse, the usual color. Black.

My backpack straps now placed on my shoulders, I stepped toward the fridge, tiptoeing. Opening the door, I grabbed a brown-ish apple, already bitten into. _Breakfast time._ Here, I had to appreciate the tiniest bit of food. Even if it was a cruel morsel.

I ran towards the door, eager to escape from home for the afternoon. Then I realized: I'm going to school. There and here were just about the same, comparing the ways people treated me.

I inhaled the morning air greedily, feeling the wind push back my hair. Seeing the recognizable features of the stop sign ahead, I ran to my bus stop. Just when the bus was about to depart, the doors opened once again, letting me in. Groans and whines escaped from various group of kids as I placed my foot on the bus floor.

"Hey look the Emo Kid!" The usual.

"What's up Ride? Cat got your tongue?" Even More so. But this one belonged to a familiar person. The main bully who destroyed my social status in school. Not that I could've done that by myself. Nick Walker. The most popular player, jock, and whatever in the school. He was a portion of the part of my life that I wish I never had. Like _Jeb._

"Nothing to say, huh? As expected." I fumbled around in my pocket for my mp3. Grasping onto the small object, I plugged the headphones in my ears: blocking out the voices of the world around me. A smirk plastered onto his face as he glared at the item in my hands.

"Someone's being rude." The bus came to a sudden halt. I looked above the leather brown seats to see what happened. We finally had arrived at school.

I stood up, being the first one to leave as usual. The silver handles of the doors leading into the hallways came into view, me striding toward them as fast as possible.

"Not so fast, Ride." A nasally voice popped up behind me. I turned around only to be met with a flash of red. Lissa.

"Wow. Eager to get away from us?" Glancing nervously around me, I was only met with a shove and the feeling of the sidewalk rubbing against my sweatshirt. Sweat trickled down my back and a wave of nausea hit me.

"Go get her." She commanded to the football players hovering over her. It was all a blur, moving fists, swift punches. But I was used to it. So I just sat there, taking it in. As usual.

**Line Break!**

It's now about two hours since Lissa sent those jocks to beat me up. I looked at my surroundings, noticing the brick wall blocking me from the school. _It's clear_. Pulling up my sleeves to my black sweatshirt, I examined the varied colors of the newly hatching bruises. Wincing as I went, I dabbed concealer on the marks, slowly taking my time to ensure quality.

My stomach ached and so did my legs. Brain throbbing and gut hurting, I managed to stand up: sleeves still rolled up to my elbows. The pink scars of the past strewn across my arm.

I was just about to head inside, noticing that I already skipped about 3 classes. Sighing, I limped toward the corner of the building.

"Ride?" I turned around slowly, noticing the questioning tone of a familiar human being. Nick. He stepped closer to me, widened eyes. And then I noticed it. My sleeve had never been pulled down, the many scars exposed to him and his obsidian irises.

"What the hell are those?" His voice was deep and rather scary, panic bubbling inside me like a pot of boiling water.

Tears welled up in the corner of my eyes, my body turning an angle away from him. And then I ran. I ran away from school, crossing the gravel of the roads leading to my home. Yes. I ran_ home_. Which was a very bad mistake.


	2. The Window

Jeb was gone. Thank god. Probably away for some _'business'_ trip again. I quickly ran to my room, wiping the blood from my feet off on a towel placed in the bathroom. Now was a time to think. A time to look over my actions. He knew. Nick knew. The scars.

I shuddered slightly, feeling the sensation of nervousness boil inside me. He wouldn't tell, would he? Oh please, I thought. He's probably sent a text to each and every one of the jocks and populars in the school. Imagining the ringing of each and every phone in the entire building made me shiver.

Looking out through my window, I noticed the drying and crumbling leaves fallen on the browning grass. It was winter. The season Mom died. I felt a cool sensation arise from my cheek, the slow and agonizing dripping of the tear slowly falling down my face. I wiped it away furiously, knowing that crying wouldn't help.

But it was too late. I let my emotions take over. The anger and hurt was speaking for me. Running to the bathroom, blade in hand. I stared up at the mirror noticing the stained cheeks and blood red eyes.

I glanced down at a small patch of skin on my wrist, ignoring the common sense in my brain telling me not to do it. Pressing the blade roughly on my wrist, I saw the thick liquid pour from the incision, rushing down my hand and falling down the sink from the tip of my finger.

Red, red, and red. My lower arm was covered in the color. Blood spreading around the cut, pooling the warm substance around the opening. Wincing, I quickly turned on the water, relishing the stinging of the liquid rushing into my wound. _Max you stupid idiot._

And then pounding. The sound, I mean. It was coming from my room.

I picked up a notepad and a sharpie writing down what my words could've said for me. _Hello?_

Then I saw him. Leaning against my window. His ruffled black hair swaying in the winter breeze. I glared at him, mentally cursing. He turned and faced me, eyes pleading me to open the window for him. So I did only the harshest thing possible. I covered the windows with my lacy black curtains, blocking out Nick and his stupid shenanigans.

"Come on Max! Please! Just...let me in! I'm freezing!" I smirked at him, pleased. I grabbed a small slip of notebook paper and wrote down my response to his plea. _Good._

"Real mature Max!" Looking at the thermometer placed outside my window, a small bubble of concern blew up in my stomach. 14 degrees. I sighed and unlatched the window handle, opening it.

The room was automatically enveloped in an awkward silence and I could swear I heard crickets chirping. "Max..." he said slowly, pointing to my arm. I glared at him, angry that he would dare ask about the scars again.

My fingers curled around the rings of my notepad, writing furiously, my response. 'None of your buisness Walker. Since when do you care? You and your merry gang of idiots made my life a living hell for...how many years again?'

"Talk." he said. I cocked my head to the side, confused at his command.

"Talk to me. I want to hear you, not read a small slip of paper." He continued. By now, my vision was a deep shade of crimson. How dare he think that he has the right to tell me to talk after everything he's done to me. I shook my head vigorously, hearing a small sigh erupt from the shadow beside me.

"Why? Why don't you speak?" I heard his voice start to rise, apparently frustrated from my resistance. I put the black cap of the sharpie on the tip of the marker and wrote down a different question, wanting to change the subject quickly.

'How did you get here?' I wrote, still curious of how he knew my address.

"Ever heard of a school directory?" A cocky smile plastered itself on his face, my lips still a straight line.

'Get out.' I wrote, wondering why I didn't write that on the first note.

"No. I want you to tell me what's that from." _Again with this?_

'You really want to know?' I scribbled down.

"Yes." He said sternly, probably thinking I'm gonna tell him. _Pshh, Yeah right. Get real._

'None of your goddamn business! Now get OUT!' His eyes searched mine, making me feel very uncomfortable sitting down on the soft cotton sheets of my bed.

"I will find out Ride. And I will hear you talk." He stated, sure of himself that he could do it. But that, my friends, would be impossible. Especially for him.

'Good Luck' I wrote down, wanting to curse him out for the past 10 minutes. Glancing nervously at the watch above my wooden desk, I saw the handles frozen, not working.

"Well, I know you're probably just begging me to stay but...I must go." He looked up at me, voice dripping with sarcasm. I rolled my eyes and wrote down the last note of the night.

'Yay' His big grin slowly faded as I saw his eyes glance over the newly written note.

"Goodbye, Maximum." I glared at him, his hands reaching for the handles to the window. And just like that, his tall figure flew down the tree, landing on the crisp white snow. _Goodbye Nick. _


	3. Lunch

I bit my lip nervously, peeling off slivers of skin. The gray clouds outside the classroom window swirled and swayed in the gloomy seas above.

"Ms. Ride?" I heard a stern voice and the tapping of nails. Mrs Martinez, my teacher, was waiting for me to answer the question. But I didn't even know what it was.

I looked up at the board, seeing a problem plastered across the dark green surface. But I remained silent, glancing nervously across the many peers in the room.

"Well come on then." Ms Martinez's fingers continued tapping on the desk impatiently, her pink nails creating small clangs against the metal table.

Keeping my gaze set on the desk, I lightly shook my head. The teacher sighed and started filling out a slip on her desk. A yellow slip.

"Maximum, please go to the office." Her bony arms elongated, stretching to present me with the office pass. I slowly stood up from my seat ignoring the snickering kids in the back. Managing to sneak a peek at the teens being shushed by the teacher, I noticed one who wasn't even laughing at all. Nick.

**At the office! Yay!**

Pulling the office door open, the smell of printer ink and the noise of shuffling papers attacked my senses. A short, chubby lady at the front desk looked over me, smiling.

"Again?" I nodded slightly and she sighed, grinning in my midst.

The lady, or more formally: Ms Dwyer, was one of my only friends in the whole school. Yes, an old lady was my only friend. Each and every time I got sent to the office, she always knew the reason. She was the only one who understood me. And I felt happy about that.

"Well here, honey. Take a seat in that beanbag over there." She pointed her wrinkled hands toward a leather, black seat in the corner. I grinned widely knowing that was my 'special' seat reserved for me.

As I passed by her desk, she handed me a notebook and a blue ball point pen. I nodded my head in gratitude as she whispered quietly: "You're Welcome."

Plopping down on the beanbag, I heard a small squeak of the office door being opened. I ignored it and continued scribbling in my new notebook.

"Ah, hello Walker." Ms Dwyer said icily. I just loved the way I was treated compared to the popular kids. My peers worshipped them but Bridget hated them.

"Helloooo Ms Dwyer." I sensed the familiar voice from before, tilting my head up so I could get a glance of the kid. Guess who?

The plastic chair next to my beanbag no longer vacant, I sighed and ran a hand through my knotted hair.

"Hi." Fumbling around in my pocket, I managed to grasp my beloved mp3, the item that has kept the annoying voices of the people whom I hate out of my head.

Scrolling through my playlist, I gave up on picking a certain song and found the randomize button in the corner. Coldplay's "Talk" began to play. Oh , what irony.

I smirked at the remark made mentally in my head, a sudden tug of the earphones pulling them out. "I said hi." His voice was deep and frustrated and his sight was fixed on me. Rolling my eyes, I grabbed my notepad out and wrote a short response.

'Hey. Now leave me alone.'

**Lunch time!**

I sat near the garbage cans. The place where the loners sat. But, you know what? It was but me who was placed next to old banana peels and the smell of rotting milk. Hey, you got used to it after awhile.

Jeb refused to pay hot lunch for me and he also refused to make me lunch for school. So, I had to gather up the most food I could pack and stuff it in the crumpled and reused paper bag. Unfortunately, the 'most food' was usually a cookie or an orange. Today's special was a bruised banana with a side of slightly chunky milk. Joy.

Peeling the bruised banana's brown-spotted covering, the pale yellow of the fruit exposed itself to me. I heard the rumbles of my stomach through my padded sweatshirt, greedily chowing down on only half. The other half was for dinner.

"Oh look. Ms Loner sitting by herself. Such a surprise" Nasally. I continued my meal, getting to my milk. But, as usual, the criticizing was only half. Because right there and then, a plate of spaghetti and garlic bread toppled onto my lap and hair, spreading tomato paste on my face and clothes.

"Eh. I don't like italian anyway." She giggled and her little group stormed off, me still smelling like minced garlic and herbs. My heart started to slow down, feeling the usual emotion of rejection surge through my heart.

"You okay?" A muffled voice said above me. I peered up, seeing a tall boy with strawberry blonde hair standing there in my wake. I nodded my head quickly as he gave me a heap of napkins, then proceeded to walk away. As expected. No one wanted to make friends with me. Especially me. That would be social suicide.

A finger placed itself on my cheek, wiping off some leftover tomato paste. I glared at the shadow next to me, already realizing who it was. "Mmmm. Tomatoe-y." He sat down beside me on the dusty tile floors glancing at my meal.

I scooted a couple tiles away from him, irritated. His hands latched onto my paper lunch bag as he peered into the crumpled object. "This...is your lunch?" Nodding, I saw him get up and walk over to the lunch line.

"Hold on." He grabbed a red tray from the lunch tables, filling it with various snack foods such as Pringles. When he seemed done I noticed him pluck out a green, worn-out twenty dollar bill. The lunch lady smiled graciously at him and handed him back his change.

"Here. Lunch." Placing the red tray in my hands, he continued to sit down next to me: two tiles away. I just stared at the many different items on the tray, my heart pounding with joy. But then I realized. I couldn't eat something someone spent so much money on. So, I pushed the tray into Nick's lap and strided my way to the bathroom.

"Talk!" I could hear him shout angrily behind me, causing people to stare. But I ignored it and ran. I won't talk. I'll never talk. Not again.


	4. Snow

**Ok. Just saying one thing here. Yes, I do update fast. But the 2nd chappy was made the day before and I forgot to update it. Also, I like to update everyday because It gives me something to do after school Plus, I hate it when a cliffy is there and people wait 6 or 7 days just to add another chapter again. Soooooo, this is so you can read the story with ease knowing a new chapter will be posted the next day and not the next week. Oh and this story will be about 45-50 chapters with 1,000 to sometimes 2,000 words a chappie. Thanx to all my readers so far! I really appreciate the great comments! So, without further ado...CHAPTER 4! Enjoy! **

I climbed up the side of my house, trying to reach for the window. Jeb never gave me a key so it was hard to actually get in the house. My unkempt nails clinged to the side of the wooden building, digging into the rotting, moldy surface.

After that fiasco with Nick at lunch, I walked out of the school building. Just like that. It's quite funny actually that no one, not even the staff, noticed I was gone.

Sighing, I grasped the metal corners of the window seal. The freezing surface numbed the tips of my fingers but I still continued on trying to break in my own house. _God, I hope the neighbors don't take this the wrong way._

But with my horrific luck, the window didn't budge. I grunted loudly with frustration, noticing how far up I was. My heart pounded loudly and I felt my leg twitch from anxiousness. I was stuck. On my window seal. In the freezing cold of winter.

Snowflakes latched themselves onto my eyelashes, making my vision teary and blurry. I lifted my finger from my pockets and wiped my face off, spreading the artificial tears on my face around my rosy cheeks. White snow was strewn across my lawn, the graceful snowflakes dancing slowly out of the sky.

Out of the distance, I heard a grunting machine. The smell of oil filled my nostrils, me bolting upright swiftly. The bus.

The yellow vehicle strode up to the solar-powered, red stop sign, opening its creaky doors and letting groups of students out. Through the corner of my eye, I noticed Lissa and her band of dimwits giggling furiously trying to get the attention of Dylan, our school's best football player. But he just looked at them, cringed his nose, and turned away. Rejected.

Through all the people on the bus, only one stood out. The boy who had passed me a couple napkins during lunch. His vivid, blue eyes shone brightly even under the gloomy, winter skies. His hair a familiar strawberry-blonde color. I caught his attention for a single second before he turned away quickly and ran to his house on the other side of the street. Looks like he actually did know about social suicide.

I eventually grew bored of trying to guess the people's names that ejected out of the bus, turning around on the ledge of the window so I could try to get in a resting position. Slowly closing my eyes, I was surprised to hear a clang of a ladder hitting the pipe on the ledge of my roof.

"Looks like someone needs a little help." Turning around, I found a familiar smirk of a boy whom I hated. Grunting in reply, I heard a chuckle emit from his lips as he turned to me and held out his hand. Slapping it away and ignoring his annoyed expression, I hurriedly climbed down the titanium surface.

The minute I hit the cold snowy ground, I ran to my front door, shaking the knob violently. But the door didn't even move an inch. "You make it so hard to be nic-" He saw me shaking the brass handle, coming closer to where I was standing.

"You don't have a key?" _No duh, Sherlock_. But instead, I shook my head signaling 'no'.

"Geez what's wrong with your parents." I gasped, catching the attention of the shadow. Suddenly, a picture of my mom came to my mind, filling my brain with the loving memories of the times we spent together.

Then I saw Jeb. The broken beer bottle glimmering in the light. The leather whip puncturing my skin. And blood. My blood. Spread across the tile floors of my bedroom. And he-he was laughing. I dropped to the ground, my hands covering my face, and started sobbing. My head was throbbing inside my beaten and bruised skull, lips producing loud cries.

Fang quickly kneeled down by my side and shook my arms . He probably thought I was crazy. If he only knew...No, he could never know. "Max? Max! Are you okay! What did I do? I'm sorry if I-"

I lifted my tear-stained face, meeting obsidian eyes. Looking at him, I shook my head. He lifted his thumbs to my cheeks and wiped across my face horizontally, collecting all the excess tears strewn across. His thumb rested at the end of my cheek for a minute before pulling away slowly.

"You can-uh, You can come to my place till' your parents get home or...whatever." Chuckling slightly, I nodded, seeing his happy face grow a large smile. I stood up, him copying my actions.

"Can you write down why you won't talk to me?" I shook my head, gaze set on the snow crunching below my shoes.

"Can you say 'Hello' to me?" Again, shaking my head.

"Do you trust me?" I hesitated for a moment, and in response, shook my head once more.

"I understand. But soon, Maximum Ride, you will come to trust me and I will be the first to hear you say hello. Mark my words. For I shall not fail!" He shouted the last part, accentuating how determined he was for his little 'project'.

**In front of Nick's house**

"Welcome to my humble abode, milady." He rested his hand on my back as I shook my shoulders violently and walked away from him.

"Whyyyyyyyyyyyyy?" I smirked while he was in the corner hanging up his coat, moping and groaning.

"You can sit on the couch and watch TV. I'll get some food." I nodded quickly, walking on the shiny wooden floors of his house. Then the bell of the doorbell rang through the house, echoing as the sound faded away.

Nick walked up to the door and pulled it open. A sudden, nasally scream emerged from the doorstep. "Maximum Ride?! What are you doing here. Nick, kick her out!" I listened closely, expecting him to sternly ask me to leave. But he just stood there, glaring at Lissa and her red-haired head.

"You leave. I invited Max over." She squealed loudly, her followers gasping along with her. My eyes widened in surprise, not expecting Fang to stand up for me. Especially to his own friends.

"What? You invited her over? What about us? What about me!"

"Lissa." He sighed exasperatedly. "There is no us. We were never an us. Now get out before I call the cops." She gasped loudly, tears streaming down her face. Then, Nick pushed them out and shut the door in her face. Oooh. Rejected twice today.

"Geez." He looked over at me, concert fogging up the obsidian of his eyes.

"You know you aren't trash like they think you are, right?" His voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes never leaving my face.

I grabbed a small notepad near me and wrote a small note down for him to read. 'Yeah, but you always thought so before too.' And with that he left me to watch Spongebob Squarepants alone, charging up to his room.


	5. Knifes

Nick was still up in his room, door locked. I tried upstairs to see what was wrong. But I became a teeny bit shy. So I just grabbed my backpack, unlocked the door, and headed home. It was just so...boring, there. And frankly, hearing Spongebob's continuous laughter got on my nerves rather quickly.

I slowly closed the door not wanting Fang to hear the click of the lock. It shut. No clang. Sighing with relief, I spotted my worn down house at the end of the street. A car was parked in the driveway, various rust spots covering the body. Jeb.

My heart pumped nervously as I glanced nervously down the block. Cautiously placing one foot on the ground, I made my way home. With each step, the house came more into my view. And the closer the house was, I could feel my heart fasten its pace.

_Ba-Bum! Ba-Bum!_

My backpack strap was blocking the circulation in my upper arm, but I just ignored it and continued home. Imagining angry Jeb would be when I got home made me even more frightened than I already was. I tried to cram away those thoughts, but somehow they kept reappearing.

Before I could change my mind and walk back to Nick's house, the terrorizing view of my house was only but a few feet away from me. A trickle of sweat slowly dripped down my neck. My hands twitched constantly by my sides. But somehow, I built up the courage to walk to my front door.

Then another problem arose. Getting inside the house. Maybe he's drunk, I thought. Passed out or...sleeping? Unlikely. But seeing his car back early from his 'trip' made me realize one thing. A woman was with him.

The last time Jeb brought home a lady, she was as much as an alcoholic as him. She even took part in beating me once before leaving, afraid that cops were going to arrive at the house. Doubting this woman was at least decent, I placed my hand on the knob. I turned it and slowly opened the door. One creak and I was toast.

Taking my foot outside and onto the carpet, I heard giggles and muffled voices from the next room over. Yep, definitely a woman here.

"Maxxxxxx, Is that you? Yourrrr latttteee." I didn't respond. I just stood there frozen, watching Jeb slur and stumble over to me.

"That's gonna cost you, young ladyyyyyyy." My gaze was set firm on Jeb and the lady standing behind him. She had piercing green eyes, staring me down from head to toe. I shifted uncomfortably before feeling the after burn of a slap on my cheek. And then laughing.

"Lil bitch..." He said, striding to right corner of the room. The kitchen. I heard a shuffling of metal and an approving grunt. He was getting his usual weapon. A butcher knife. The metal object gleamed devilishly in the light, a maniacal smile plastered across his face. He took a step forward. I took a step back. Another step towards me for him. And for me, the slamming of my back hitting a wall. A dead end.

"He-help!" My voice was raspy, tongue dry. Jeb grunted in disgust, placing the tip of the knife at my neck. Slowly sliding it downwards, I panicked as I saw the dark crimson substance flow out of the cut.

"Hahahaaaaaaa...You see that Katieee?" She mumbled something slowly before flicking her bright green eyes to Jeb's face. My cut was still oozing blood, but his attention was set on the lady behind him.

"My name isn't Katie, dumb ass. It's Isabel." Her voice pierced my ear drums, squeaky and annoying. I cringed as Jeb turned his attention back to me mumbling under his breath: "Whatever..." I tried to slip away from him, but it was no use. He had the knife and I was defenseless._ Or was I?_

I placed my trembling hand in my pocket, poking around the lint-filled insides. Memorizing items stowed in my sweatshirt, I tried to think of a reasonable weapon to use against Jeb. Nothing but a rusty bobby pin and a Wrigley's gum wrapper laid inside. The butcher knife was now held up to my wrists, spewing the thick, red liquid out of my large wounds.

In one swift movement, I grabbed Jeb's determined palms, trying hardly to grasp the knife from his sweaty hands. He grunted lowly, a coating of sweat glimmering under the room light.

"Let...go...of...Me!" The wooden handle of the knife was now in my possession. I stared at the demonic device, Jeb rolling around painfully on the carpets below. Isabel looked at me in horror, and I finally realized why. Jeb was bleeding from his side profusely, spreading what seemed like gallons and gallons of blood over the room surface.

"You...you killed...him." Isabel said repeatedly, hyperventilating. The knife in my hand was dripping with blood, mine and Jeb's colliding at the tip.

"You killed him!" She lunged at my panicked self and screamed various profanity words. Her red , long nails dug into my arms, leaving bleeding marks covering the area. Wincing harshly, I managed to cut her with the knife in my hand softly. Or what I thought was soft.

"O-owwwwwww. Hurts' so...bad..."She was kneeling before me on the ground, clutching her red stained side. I gasped in horror and quickly dropped the knife on the ground, hearing the distasteful clang of the metal puncture my ears. I had killed. And not just one. But two.

I screamed loudly, tears blurring up my hazy vision. "Oh my god. Oh god. God, god, god. Shit!" Glancing the scene quickly, I sneaked to my hiding backpack in the corner of the room, and headed for the door. I didn't look behind, knowing what was there. The house was enveloped in a calming and eerie silence almost instantly. No crying. No breaths. Just the view of two dead bodies strewn across a living room floor.

I ran out of the house, through the screen door, heading as far away from that place as possible.

**I hope I made this less cliche. Because I hate it when my stories jut turn out like so many others. Soooooooooo, good? Bad? Review? Pleeaaaaaseeee *Bambi Eyes* The force compels you...Thanx for reading my story so far! I really appreciate all the comments, followers, reviewers, and favorite-ers.**


	6. The Truth

**So sorry about the whole mix-up with the name Nick and his nickname Fang...I felt so stupid when I reread it. Again...Sooooooooooo sorry. Also since valencia is also Max's mom...I have no choice but to change the teacher's name to Mrs. Chu. A female version of Mr. Chu so the teacher can remain a girl. Stupid typing mistakes.**

The snowflakes from above drifted down to my freezing hands, constantly rubbing together together, trying to create friction. But no matter how hard I tried, the goosebumps covering my arms wouldn't go away. After the...incident with Jeb, I scurried to a small abandoned road me and my mom used to venture down when I was little.

I was now homeless, thanks to my wonderful idea to live on the totally safe roads of vacant allies. And believe me, the most uncomfortable thing about it was the rainwater soaking my pant legs. I already knew I was probably going to get hypothermia. And I also knew that by now, the cops would've found Jeb and Isabel's dead bodies.

I just didn't understand how my life could get any worse. But yet, when people say things like that in the movies, something way worse does indeed happen. But with me, saying things like that means nothing. Because everything I once loved was already gone.

I breathed in and out deeply, calming my raging thoughts swarming through my head. With every bright light of cars passing me by, I prayed that it would be my savior, calling 911 and sending me to the hospital. But each time a car did pass me by, all I was met with was a mouth full of water from the gutters.

Burrowing deeply into my jacket, I cried slowly into my palms. The tears dripping down my face felt as If they were freezing on my numb cheeks. I was slowly being ripped away from the world before me, my vision growing blurry.

Everything that was suppose to be still was moving. The trees were dancing. The clouds were shaking violently. My eyesight grew dark and my eyelids heavy. A sudden sleepy feeling overcame my body, me slowly closing my eyes

A sudden pair of bright lights stopped before me. I opened my eyes, seeing a dark figure move towards my limp body. But I couldn't make out the exact shape before me. All I remember was a pair of hand picking me up quickly and the shouting of my name repeatedly.

"Max! Max! Max, Stay with me!" And finally, I felt a deep sleep overcome me.

**Line Break!**

I groggily lifted my pounding head from the bed I was sleeping in. I didn't know how, but apparently I ended up in a dark, navy blue room. Yawning loudly, I lifted my still-freezing feet from the bed and placed them on the ground, experiencing yesterday's pain all at once.

A scream protruded from my cracked lips, feeling the numbness surging through my legs. During the time I was screaming, I heard a quick shuffle of feet near my door. My hands nervously twitching, I hoped it wasn't a random stranger who had taken me in.

"Max? Are you okay?" The pearl white door to the room was slammed open, exposing a concerned Nick striding to the foot of my bed. I shook my head slowly and pointed to my legs, still limply hanging down by the side.

"What's wrong?" Again, frustrated now, I pointed to my legs. He cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow at my charades game.

"You want me to...massage your legs?" A smirk plastered onto his face as I shook my head violently at his remark. Giving up on acting it out, I grabbed a nearby notepad and wrote down what was wrong.

'My legs. I can't feel them.' I concentrated as hard as I could on my feet, trying to wiggle my toes. But they stayed immobilized, not moving a single inch. He glared at them worriedly and looked back at me, poking them softly.

"You don't feel me poking your feet?" I shook my head, he ran a hand through his now ruffled hair.

"Does it hurt?" I paused a moment, trying to see if there was actually an aching feeling. But no such feeling occurred in my legs.

A small silence enveloped the room, me sitting on the bed and Nick spinning around on a computer chair. He stopped suddenly when he saw me write down a question on the paper.

'Where am I? And why am I with you?' His face grew pale and sweaty for a second before answering me.

"Well...you were on the streets, just sitting there. After you left, I got kind of, um, worried. So I went to look for you. I thought about going to your house...so I did." My heart stopped immediately, gallons of sweat emanating from the back of my neck and forehead.

"When I got there...there was...a man and woman. Both dead. So I got frantic 'cause I thought, you know... you were there and all. And that's when I found you unconscious. And to answer the last question...you're in the guest room to my house."

'You probably want me to explain the...bodies?" He swallowed loudly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down slowly.

'It all started out from when I was a little-er. One thing you must know...I'm...abused.' His facial expression grew grimm and he fixed his gaze on the plush carpet beneath him.

**3 hours later after explaining everything...**

"The cops...go to the cops." His eyes flicked over to mine, obsidian clouded in a shroud of fear.

'They will know I killed Jeb and Isabel.' He nodded slowly, still processing everything I said. And when I saw his frightful reaction to my story, I instantly regretted the decision to tell him.

"But in self defense! It was to protect yourself!" His voice was now but a shout, echoing a it passed through the high walls of the house.

'I will leave. They will take me to an orphanage. I need Jeb to stay in this state. And he's dead. I have to stay running. They can't take me away.' My eyes grew teary, a warming sensation rising near the bags underneath.

He turned around swiftly and walked to the bedside, sitting beside me, our thighs touching. "You...can stay...here. I don't want you to leave. I haven't even gotten you to talk yet." I chuckled lightly, feeling the warmth of his thumb strewn across my wet cheeks. He smiled sweetly at me, pulling his hand away.

"I swore I was going to get you to talk. And I haven't given that up yet, Max."


	7. Text Messages

I was very grateful to Nick. He basically saved me when I was on the streets. But I wasn't sure If I could trust him...just not yet at least. I mean, sure. I told him everything, but inside I was secretly still wondering if trust was something I could have again.

Ever since Nick found out about the abuse I suffered at home, he's been pestering me more about the scars. When I didn't show him, he'd come back again and start asking the same question. I was scared though. To show him them, I mean. What if he freaked out? What if he...called the police?

A pair of crutches laid on the side of my bed, Nick giving me them till the numbness fades. Grunting, I pulled the crutches to my side and stood up carefully, not wanting to topple over onto the floor. As I stood up, I noticed the feeling of the wooden surface on my right foot but not my left.

"Max? What...are you doing?" He gazed at the crutches in my hands, slowly pulling them away and ushering me back to the bed.

"No, no, no. You need to rest." I rolled my eyes, feeling the plush comforter across my body, encasing me tightly. He sighed and sat down on my bed, glaring at my arms. I tucked them uncomfortably under the covers, hiding them from Nick.

"Please Max? I just want to see them once." Hesitant for a second, I shook my head. He mumbled something, and turned back around, ready to leave the room. My stomach boiled with guilt as I watched him leave, knowing everything he did for me this far.

I pounded hardly on the nightstand next to me, catching his attention. I waved my hands for him to come by the bed, making up the decision to show him. He sped to the bedside and crouched slightly, burning holes through the area where my arms rested.

Sighing, I lifted the covers up, exposing my black jacket and dirty tank top. My breath hitched as I felt my hands curl around the ends of the sweatshirt, pulling it off my body slightly. I looked up at Nick, his gaze still on the only place where he had seen the scars.

In one swift movement, I had the jacket tossed on the far end of the bed, hanging limply off the side. And then I saw his eyes. They were wide, shock and fear swirling within. My arms were covered in various shaped bruises, scars old and new. Blood-red cuts strewn across the surface of my skin, some still not completely healed.

He tilted his head up, directing his eyesight on my face. Sighing, I licked my thumbs and spread them on my caked cheeks. The tan-colored concealer rubbed off on my fingers, me furiously wiping the make-up away. By the time I was done, my hands were covered in the goop. I wiped my fingers disgustedly on my pants, spreading the thin substance on my pants.

"Max..." His voice sounded so worried, so concerned. His hands wrapped around my arms, lifting them up and down to examine. With each inch of wounds, he seemed more and more tense, stiffening beside me.

"You...never told me they were..t-this bad." I could tell he was struggling, trying to control the emotions inside him. My notebook laid near me, curling my fingers around the metal hoops.

'You're the only one who knows.' I lifted the paper to eye-level, exhibiting the scrawled out, blue inked writing.

"Why? Why only me?" I shrugged and placed the cap of the Bic pen onto the end, making it easier for me to write.

'You're the only one who really asked before.' His breaths seemed more controlled, his body seeming less tense.

"Hold on..." I cocked my head to the side as he rose from the ground and off to a nearby room. He came back with a handful of supplies and such, all dealing with first-aid supplies. I backed away slowly, heart pounding. I hated the sting of my cuts being cleaned, especially the deep ones.

"What? You're...scared?" I nodded quickly, a smirk placing itself on his lips. He sighed and grabbed my hand, now grinning.

"How about this. I hold your hand while the medical thingy's get applied to the cuts. It will hurt less. Swear." I thought for a moment before nodding slowly.

He grabbed a cotton ball with his right hand, left hand still intertwined with mine. The gesture sent heat rushing to my face, my cheeks growing hot, but I ignored it and watched him dab the cotton in a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. His fingers slowly inched closer to my cuts, checking to see if I was okay. I nodded, feeling like a coward.

In a matter of time, the cotton balls were finally placed on my skin, Nick spreading the liquid across my arms. I gasped loudly, feeling the burn of the cuts being cleaned out. His hand held tighter onto mine, realizing I was in pain. The liquid pouring in the wounds bubbled, the tingling yet aching sensation of the surface being washed out.

"It's okay. Almost done..." He grabbed a couple more cotton balls, holding them between his index finger and thumb. Finally stopping the procedure, I looked up to see him packing away the supplies.

"Anddddddddd...done." I smiled gratefully, him nodding his head and descending once again into the bathroom.

"I'm going to take a shower. Stay in bed, okay?" Nodding quickly, I let my muscles rest under the soft covers, my brain dulling as I felt more and more sleepier.

A sudden ringing noise woke me up. Nick's phone. The pounding noises of the shower emitted from the bathroom, alerting me that Nick was still inside. His phone rang again, vibrating against the desk beneath. My mind wandered curiously, wanting to know who was texting him so much.

I slowly stood up, crutches too. The phone was but a few inches away from me as I reached over, feeling the sleek texture on my palms. I was a little surprised at what the phone said, but still continued on looking through the technology: 3 new messages...from Lissa.

I clicked the IM page and opened up a list of texts between Nick and Lissa. As I began reading through them, I felt my heartbeat grow weaker and weaker. They were insults...meant for me. Through the time he had helped me, he had still been making fun of me. My heart strings twanged, feeling rejected and lonesome once more.

This close, I thought. This close to trusting him. Through the corner of my eyes, I saw Nick head for the room, hair dripping but clothed. He stopped at the door, looking at my pale face.

"What's up?" His voice was calm and cool, showing no panic or fear of the messages before me. Anger boiled inside me, my eyes flicking toward him. How dare he think that I would ever trust him? And I almost did.

I limped to the side of the door quickly, pushing Nick aside, and heading for escape out of the house. He toppled over and stumbled on the ground, quickly gathering himself up and running towards me.

"What the hell, Max! What's wrong with you?" I pointed to his phone furiously, his face growing nervous and sweaty.

"The messages..." He whispered softly, not noticing my hand reach toward the door knob to his house.

"Max! Stop! That was before..." I turned around and glared at him, tears streaming down my cheeks. His mouth opened slightly but closed, finally deciding to shut up.

And once again I ran. I ran away from the cops. And most of all... I ran from the arrogant bastard who once again, betrayed my trust.


	8. Iggy, My New Friend

**I want to explain one thing before I type the chapter up. When Max writes, the ' marks are her writing, not her speaking, Just to clear up any possible confusion.**

After realizing the truth behind Nick "helping" me, I had ran away from the Walker residence to somewhere unrecognizable. The crying skies above pounded my tangled head, forming goosebumps on my arms. My breath was visible in the nighttime air, a white mist.

Reviewing some past events in my head, near the time Nick first caught a glimpse of the scars, I noticed something shady about the way he acted. The first time Lissa came over, shrieking when she saw me in his house, a note was handed from him to her. I never questioned it, though, understanding the meaning of privacy.

What I came up with was that Nick was trying to get me to trust him in order to explain all my secrets to Lissa. I gasped at the sudden thought, now realizing just what they were doing. Nick never cared. It was all an act.

I looked up at the clouded sky, not seeing the moon above. A scream emitted from my mouth, not wanting to hold in the anger or frustration any longer. My breath felt heavy, my feet tired. I licked my lips, feeling the soreness of my throat and the dryness of my tongue.

"Who's there?" A flashlight was shined in my direction, the sudden brightness stinging my eyes. I collapsed onto the ground, hiding my face from the person ahead of me.

"Oh my god...Hey! Are you okay!" The voice seeming somewhat recognizable, I lifted my head from my palms to get a glance. It was the boy. The boy who had helped me at lunch. The one who never spoke to me, who walked away. His pale, blue eyes sparkled from the gleaming flashlight, his legs moving towards me.

"It's...you." The end seeming more like a whisper, I fumbled around in my pocket for the item wanted. Feeling the metal texture of the pen, I wrote down my name on my hand so he could read my name.

'I'm Max.' He gulped loudly, his strawberry-blonde hair drifting in front of his right eye.

"Yeah. I know you from school. I'm James." He extended his hand out, me grasping the soft surface of his palms.

"Are you walking to your house." I shook my head and scrawled out a small response on my hand, saving room for other sentences.

'No home.' His eyes widened slightly, glancing at my face worriedly.

"Well...uh. Y-you can stay at my house for tonight." My heart sped up, feeling grateful at his request.

"I mean...you don't have t-to! J-just a suggestion!" I giggled at his struggling words and nodded slightly, my shadow appearing due to the flashlight.

"Great." He flashed a white grin fixed in my direction, me smiling happily.

**Line Break!**

"So what's your favorite...color?" He asked calmly, rain dripping from his face and clothes. I pointed my fingers to my black jacket, the color I desired most.

He nodded understandingly and stroked his chin thoughtfully as If he had a beard. "What's your favorite...animal?" I thought wonderingly, not knowing the answer. An idea came to mind, pushing away all the animals I could think of in my brain.

Thankfully, James understood I didn't want to talk, so he provided me with a slip of loose leaf paper. 'Hawk.' He smiled sweetly, gaze directed at me. My turn to ask questions.

'Any nicknames I can call you? James is boring.' He feigned a fake gasp, placing his hand over his widened mouth.

"How dare you!...Call me Iggy." I laughed at his nickname, feeling slightly guilty.

"Glad you think it's funny." He smirked, his eyes shining with glee. My heart strummed a beautiful beat, feeling happy I made an actual friend for a change.

The doorbell rang through the house, puncturing both Iggy's and mine ears. He stood up slowly, glancing at the door at the end of the hall.

"I'll get it." He ran to the coat hanger near the front entrance and placed his fingers on the brass door knob, slightly turning it until it clicked open.

"Uh...what are you doing here?" His voice seemed somewhat surprised, and I couldn't tell why. I shrugged it off and continued fiddling with my thumbs.

"Max. Is she here?" My eyes widened slightly recognizing the tune of the voice. I glared at the teenager standing at the foot of Iggy's doors, his eyes meeting mine. Nick.

"Max..." His voice seemed apologetic, but I didn't give a damn. I ran to the back entrance of Iggy's house and escaped through the bushes, feeling the paining sensation of the cold once more.

I slowly sat down on a sloped rock, feeling a jagged stone stab my thigh. I winced slightly, hearing a conversation in the distance.

"Nice going, ass! You made her run away!" It was Iggy's voice, loud and frustrated.

"I'm not the ass here. I'm just trying to look for her." Nick spoke, deep and angry-like.

"Since when do you care about her, huh? You and all the others bullied her for years! And now she's on the streets!" He shrieked, sending chills up and down my back.

"Whatever. I'm going to look for her myself." He walked away from the porch light of Iggy's house, hands in pockets.

"Not if I find her first." Nick's eyes widened slightly, surprised at Iggy's remark.

"What are you talking about, James?" Iggy grinned slightly, his eyes clouding with determination.

"I'm going to find Max. You can just stay at home. Let me do the work." Nick shook his head, a rumbling laughter echoing from his throat.

"We'll just see, now won't we?" Iggy slammed the door in Nick's face, strutting back inside.

When Nick got to the sidewalk, he cupped his lips with his hands, yelling my name. "Maxxxxxxxx! Max, come back! I'm sorry!"

Iggy exited through the back entrance of his house, climbing through the tall, scraggly grass on his yawn. "Max! It's Iggy! It's okay! Just come out!" I sighed, hearing the yells of both guys filling my head.

Two words. Oh boy.


	9. Starry Skies

I was still hiding near the bushes, recognizing Nick's and Iggy's shouts every day, every hour. I almost thought about going out there, but then I realized. They both were looking for me. This was but a competition to them. Like betting on a sports game.

So I remained near that mossy, jagged rock. I had actually grown quite fond of it. But only in some positions was sleeping on it comfortable. I had to keep shifting just to maintain my sleep status and not be woken up by a rock stabbing my ribs.

"Max! Hellooooooooo! Max! Maxie! I have...cookies! Chocolate chip!" Darn that Iggy. His convincing skills had gotten my attention, though. Especially the cookies. I peered through a small crack in the bushes, glancing at Iggy's tall silhouette. Nick was nowhere to be seen.

Sighing, I pulled the rough branches of the plant out of my way and stalked over to a wandering Iggy. Unfortunately, he saw me before I could scare him.

"Max! Oh, Max! I was soooooo worried! So much!" He ran to me, holding out his lengthy arms, and capturing me in a warm hug. I could feel him smiling against my hair, raking his fingers through the knots, inhaling and exhaling soothingly.

I grinned at him, feeling the sunshine on my now-blinded eyes. Iggy noticed, pulling me towards a shady area underneath a tree. Only a tiny space was available in the shade, so Iggy took a seat in the sunshine. Smelling the scent of pine trees and sap, I dug my nails in the ground below, relishing the soft grass swaying beneath me.

"Hey Max?" I looked up to Iggy, seeing his hands placed on his forehead, blocking out the sun. His smile formed into a straight line, his hand's sweat gleaming under the rays of light. He was nervous. About...something. I moved my hands quickly, ushering him to move on with his question. He gazed up at the blue sky, his eyes matching the distinct color of the sea above us.

"Ummmm...I-I've seen the...scars. On your arms." He was twiddling with his thumb frantically, flicking his eyesight to mine.

"H-How did you get them?" I felt my heart pound loudly through my chest. The decision to trust Iggy or the decision to tell him to back off. Well, that was a no-brainer.

He grabbed a crumpled paper out of his pocket and an infamous blue-inked pen. "Been saving them for you..."

"I mean you don't have to tell me! Not..you know...today! I can-" I placed my hand over his mouth, chuckling. His cheeks grew a shade of crimson, blushing. I nodded my head and he exhaled loudly, seeming relieved.

'It all started when I was little...well...little-er...' Iggy kept fixed his sight on the paper, making sure that he read every word. But soon, he'd probably wish he hadn't.

**Line Break! 3 hours Later!**

"But...wha-...Abuse?!" His voice grew loud, shouting. I placed my finger to my lips, shushing him, trying not to attract attention.

'The cops are looking for the murderer. And they say I've gone missing. Soon, they'll find out It was me who killed them.' Iggy's eyes grew wide, running his hand continuously through his hair.

"But In self-defense! It was for self-defense, Max!" He shrieked, piercing my ear drums. I lifted my hands from the grass and placed them over my ears, blocking out the noise. Iggy noticed and reached for my hands slowly. His eyes were raw with emotion, regret filling them up like a flood.

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to yell that loud." He grabbed my right hand and intertwined it with mine, keeping hold on my palms. I felt my face flush, my cheeks heating up. Iggy noticed and chuckled lowly.

"Max. You're blushing." I glared at him, unamused. His laughter grew more and more, soon turning into a fit. I stood there, arms crossed, watching the whole thing. He breathed a sigh and turned up to the sky.

"The night is beautiful, y'know?" It was indeed. The sky was clear, exhibiting all various stars of different kinds. The clouds pushed themselves aside, letting me get a clear view of the shining moon above. It was placed high up, craters visible. I saw the face. The man on the moon. I smiled to myself, reserved.

When I was little, I made small talks with the moon. I used my imagination and pretended he was talking back to me. My mom encouraged me to show my creativity in life, expose my true self. She showed me the face. The face placed on the moon. It was a beautiful sight when I was younger. But now, It just showed me how much I longed for her warm smile.

"You can stay here. In my room. I'll take the sofa in the living room." He smiled happily at me, still staring up at the stars. This was what you could describe as perfect. The stars. The moon. It was all so...right.

**In Iggy's bedroom! (Not like that! Gosh...)**

"G'night, Max." Iggy stood at the room entrance, a playful smirk gracing his lips. I grabbed the paper, the one used all today.

'Goodnight, Iggy.' He nodded his head, understanding my graciousness. His foot turned away, starting to take his absence into the living room. I got up quickly, running to his side. He cocked his head, confused. I leaned in closer, Iggy's eyes growing wide. Placing a kiss on his cheek **(A/N: Sorry Fax fans...)** I walked back to the soft bed in the middle of the room.

Iggy stood there, face flushing, mouth agape, hand hovering over the spot I placed my kiss on. He grinned widely, ear to ear. Skipping away to his resting spot, I sighed quietly to myself.

My eyes closed, extremely heavy from the day's activities. I yawned and reached for the light to the bedroom. The yellow stream of bright faded away to a pitch black color. Sleep overcame me, finally...resting peacefully.

**1 hour later!**

_Knock Knock Knock!_

My eyes fluttered open, heart pounding. Now, the first thing I expected was a robber. But looking out to the window, It was something worse. Rather...someone. With a familiar shade of obsidian eyes.


	10. Tree Climbing

**Ok so i noticed something. A lot of questions dealing with 'Is this a Fax or Miggy.' This is a Fax. Possibly a teeny bit of Miggy. just a teeny but. But as listed in the description of this story...It's a fax. Soooooo...there you go! And just wanted to say a quick something... 567 FRICKIN VIEWS IN ONE DAY! THAT'S SOOOOOOO AMAZING! THANK YOU ALL!**

Nick stood outside, hair swaying in the wind. He didn't know why, but he needed to see Max. He wanted Max back, to see her smile, to hear her chuckles. He messed up. And he already knew. The texts were the cause of this. His heart ached when he saw Max crying. To take back everything was his wish. To have Max forgive him.

Because maybe...just maybe, was Nicholas Walker in love.

**Nick P.O.V. (First time! Woooooo!)**

I really hate Iggy. I just really do. It's unexplainable, but when I saw Max with him, I felt my stomach ache. My heartbeat grew faster and faster. I looked around the neighborhood, seeing it was nighttime. By then, Iggy would be sleeping in his one room. That left time for me to talk to Max. At least I hope.

**In front of Iggy's house!**

His house was too colorful. His driveway was too beat up, dribbles of pebbles pouring out from the holes in the concrete. Garage was just plain ugly. Car was rusty and wrecked up. This guy was too easy to insult. It took a whole lot of willpower for me not to take an object from the ground and throw it as his cheap windows.

I glanced up from my view of the dying grass on his lawn, and saw Max. She placed her hand over her mouth, yawning. It was sort of, maybe a little, cute. Or a lot.

The white, lace curtains closed, covering the room Max was sleeping in up. I sighed and stepped forward, leaving my common sense behind. I couldn't walk through the door. But...there was a tree. And it just so happens that it was placed next to Max's window. Joy.

I dug my claws in the sap-lathered trunk. My hands were full of splinters from my attempts of climbing. Grunting, now frustrated, I punched the tree in front of me. The only good thing that came out of that was the lesson to not punch trees. Because it hurt. Badly.

"Gahhhhhhhh! Stupid frickin' tree!" I leaned over, examining my knuckle. It was red and puffy. But not bleeding. I ran a hand through my hair, feeling my fingers trail down my scalp.

Trying once more, I latched onto the side of the tree. My fingertips finally grasped hold of a branch, feeling the sap once again, ooze down my arm.

The window seal was but a few feet away from my reach. I tried not to look down, using a little bit on the sense I hadn't lost when I decided to climb up. I looked at the appearing window, peering through the lace. Lights were off. Max was asleep. Damn.

So, you know what I did? The most stupidest thing I could think off. Pound on her window to get her to wake up.

She rose up from her bed, frantic. Oh great, I thought. She probably thinks I'm a robber.

Her eyes narrowed to small slits. Through the thick surface of the curtains drooping down, I could barely see her brown eyes, much less her face.

"Max? Max! Please! Please, I'm cold! Open up!" Her eyes widened, recognizing my voice, and backed a few steps away from me.

"No! Don't do that! I just want to talk!" She lifted her thin index finger to her mouth, signaling the universal 'Shhh' sign. I cocked my head to the side, not understanding what she meant. And then It just came to me. Iggy.

Before I could snatch a hiding spot away from the slamming door of an angry Griffiths, he spotted my panicked face and came closer to the latches on the window. With a golf club. Oh, great.

Max stretched her arm out over the window, protecting my sweating face from Iggy's metal killing device. His angry face cooled down a bit before turning back to me. With an expression of disgust, he unlatched the windows, and ushered me inside.

Grunting loudly, he stepped out of the room and slammed the door shut. Max shot me a fake smile and sat down on her bed, patting the spot next to her. I swiftly lowered down to the light blue sheets. She tapped her lips slowly, glaring at me. It took a couple minutes to understand her before I finally got it. My turn to talk.

"Ohhh, ok. Ummm, where do I start...Oh! The messages." Her bit a sliver of skin off the edge of her nail before refocusing her attention back to me.

"So, I just came here to say how sorry I am. And how I want you to...come back to my house. I really felt guilty for it all. Everything. It's just Lissa was pressuring me to do it...to send the insults about you to her. I didn't mean for all this to happen. I just...want you back."

She didn't blink for a couple seconds. She just stood there. Frozen. Like a statue. And then I heard her laugh. Her warm laugh. And I saw her beautiful smile placed on her lips. And I knew it was going to be alright.

**50 minutes later!**

"Yo, Iggster!" I yelled across the hall, happy and excited to see his shocked face.

"What do you wants" He said, emphasizing the you with a tone of pure hatred. I smirked lightly, pausing for dramatic effect.

"Well...I'm stealing Max from you. Sorry." Iggy's mouth hung low, limply opened. I chuckled lowly so he couldn't hear me, and waited for max and her bags.

"Wh-what?!" He seemed shocked. And disappointed. As planned.

"Me and her made up sooooo...move." He glanced at Max for the real truth, but she just nodded her head up and down, golden streams flicking in mid-air.

Max walked up to Iggy slowly, seeing how sad he was. It was pathetic to me, but apparently Max felt bad about it or something. Whatever. It's not like I minded how she...kissed his cheek. Totally fine with that.

Gosh, I hate Iggy.

**One question: Should I do Nick's P.O.V more? Oh and about his nickname...I'll bring it up later in the story. So, in time, he will be called Fang. Thank you all and merry christmas! Or whatever!**


	11. Nightmares

Blood pooled around little Nicholas's 10 year old body. His screams and shouts echoed through the halls, sending an eerie cast over the house.

His hands were frozen over the dead corpses of his house floor, hovering over the many wounds of the people he once called family. Their blood curdling shrieks continued to replay through his head, unable to destruct the cursed thoughts.

"Mom! Wake up, Mom!" His eyes were clouded with tears, blurry. His mother strewn across the furnished carpet, laying limp on the surface. Not a muscle moving. Placing his thumb and curling his fingers around her wrist, he felt for a steady pulse.

But none was there. His mom, had left. His mom was dead. And it was all little Nick's fault.

**Back to Max's P.O.V.**

I was confused.

_Very_ confused.

About Nick, About Iggy. About...everything. I knew had to go on the run again, Nick seeming tense every time I scribbled down the topic. He just sat there and stared. At a wall. For what seemed like hours, not calming himself down very well.

I poked his shoulders gently sometimes, wanting him to get up and go to sleep. He would smile gently and one time he surprisingly hugged me. He would whisper in my ear and tell me not to go. But of course, I had too. For the sake of not going to jail.

"Max?" His voice was hoarse, dry and rough. I walked to his side, worried and sweaty from the heat wave outside. He gazed in my direction, stoic expression plastered on his face. His eyes an emotionless pit of nothing.

'What's wrong? You seem tired.' My legs were criss-crossed on the tile floor. I just placed my hands down behind me, wanting to hear what was with him lately.

"I don't know what's wrong. I really don't. Maybe it's you going. Maybe it's just a bad day. Is it Monday? That could be it..." I pointed to the calendar slowly, exhibiting the date. Wednesday. He chuckled lowly and fixed his gaze once more...on the wall. The stupid, crackly old wall. White and plain, bare wood spots showing through the surface.

'Why me going?' I just needed to know. I really did. It's like when you watch a really good series and you just need to see how it ends. You just need to. Emphasis on the need.

He shrugged casually, hands supporting chin beneath. "You make the house...happy. To be in, I mean. Without you...It's kind of boring." He smiled a lopsided grin and faced me, now turning worried Oh boy. Here we go again.

"Go. To. Sleep." Said he, slowly. I shook my head, hair flopping on my cheeks. I pointed to him and he sighed.

"Fine then..." And without warning, he picked me up and hung me over his shoulder, heading for the stairs. Apparently, he has never heard of a personal bubble before. Gosh.

I punched and pounded his back, crossing my arms, unamused. But he just thought this was the funniest thing. Idiot.

**Guest Room!**

"Sleep." I was now tucked in, eyes half-lidded. Peering through the slits, I saw him walk out the door and back downstairs. _Goodnight Nick_, I thought. _Sweet dreams._

**In Max's sleep!**

_"Mommy?" I clambered up the blood-soaked stairs, screams and shrieks piercing my ears. Crimson red footsteps across the wooden floors, muddy red hand-prints on the walls._

_"Run, sweetie! Run! Far away!" He held her hair back, her scalp bloody and bruised. A broken bottle stabbed her side, her limp body kneeling down on the ground, crying out in pain._

_"Mommy? Jeb?" Confusion fluttered through me. I didn't know. About the blood. About the abuse. About the...hurt._

_And then it was black. A black pit surrounding my body. My hands were dripping with black liquids, melting into the sea of nothing below me. Screaming, I tried to get out. But the quicksand of black held me down, a snake constricting its victim._

_A whip slashed my back, a beer bottle stabbed my arm, my hair cut out and chunks on the floor. Blood on my body, on the ground too. She told me to run and hide. But in the vast sea of memories, I just collapsed on the ground, sobbing loudly._

_My mom was killed. By Jeb. People said it was a car accident. But that was a cover-up for the truth. The truth I couldn't tell. Because Jeb was the one who told me never to speak. And that's why I don't. Because If I ever did, he said he was going to beat me...to death._

**Guest Room!**

"Max? Max!" I felt a pair of rough hands grab my shoulders and shake me violently. Opening my eyes, I realized it was Nick. Tears were placed on my cheeks, cooling my burning face.

"You were screaming...are you okay?" Nodding gravely, I turned to the other side of my bed, facing Nick and the concerned obsidian orbs.

Understanding the message, he got up to leave out of the room, leaving me and my nightmares alone. You could say I was 'finally in peace'. But, no. I was never in peace. Especially due to the fact that my hearing was clouded with the sound of wailing police sirens. Surrounding Nick's house. Well shit.

**Sorry for the shortness of the story...missing 1000 words by a few...but...I FORESEE FAX IN FUTURE! YES! WONDERUL FAAAAAAAX! YES! MWAHAHAHA! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAH! OK, bye.**


	12. Fugitives

The pistol shot was heard, echoing through the small apartment. A lady laid across the floor, a boy weeping over her. His hands were placed over her dying heart, soaking in blood of the gun wound. Black eyes blurring with tears. Wails and screams emanating from the family's living room.

The man had taken Nick's family. Nick's everything. And all that left was the horrid nightmares that replaced the memories of the past.

**Back to Max's Room!**

"Maximum Martinez Ride. You are under arrest for the murders of Jeb Ride and Isabel Lee Smith." His voice was loud through the megaphone. I could feel a bump form in the very midst of my throat. My stomach felt as if it were punched, all air knocked out of my lungs.

"Max! Run!" Nick sprinted in the room with two bags. One was mine. A potato-sack looking bag with various holes on the bottom. One was...a neat, black duffel bag. No holes, perfect shape. I gasped lightly, adrenaline rushing through my veins. He was coming along.

I shook my head violently and pointed to his stuffed bag lying on the bed. He looked from my finger to the sheets and glared at my disapproving eyes. "You can't stop me, Max. Now move! We have to go! Now!"

His fingers trembled over to the latched windows, unlocking them for an escape route. He pointed his hands to to window, ushering me to go first. I grunted in reply and grabbed my bags, now bleeding with various necessities.

Ignoring the toothpaste tube strewn on the ground, I clambered over to the window. I grasped hold of the ledges and poked my head through the opening. The muggy air hit my face, the police lights all surrounding the front of the house. Nick was trying to comfort me in hushed whispers, but nothing was working. I felt as if I could faint any minute now.

Placing my first step on the roof, Nick was only starting to climb out of the window. I tried to fasten my pace, to speed up the escape process. But it went by so slowly. Every second that passed, it seemed as though only an inch was moved.

"Get In there!" The police chief shouted, rubbing his grey mustache vigorously. Several armed men broke down the front door, much to Nick's protests, and entered the house.

Nick had took hold of my hand, intertwining his fingers and mine. Now at the ledge, we decided to take the risk. To jump from the rooftop down to the mushy soil below. He glanced at my frightened expression, tightening the hold on our hands. I gulped in a drink of air, filling my lungs up with savory oxygen, before jumping down.

"One...Two..." Cops filled the lower portion of the house, the sound of broken vases squirming around the area.

"Three. Jump!" It seemed as though we were slow motion. His black hair flew up, wind pushing it back as we went down. My bag was a paperweight, bringing me down faster to the ground. The green color of the grass came closer and closer. And soon we had it bottom. The soil. And we weren't dead. Phew.

I pointed to the thick woods in front of us, offering the idea of escaping through Nick's back yard forest. He silently mumbled an agreement and stumbled quickly to the edge of the lawn, the forest opening coming into view. The trees smelled earthy, soil filling the combat boots Nick let me borrow. Apparently my Converse were...'indecent'.

The mud sloshed around below us, the skies above rumbling loudly. The police were still searching the house, me and Nick hiding inside a ditch, dirt staining our clothes.

"Sir! They're not here! We searched the entire area. The young woman was absent from the bedroom..." He seemed reluctant at first to tell him, lowering his voice at the end.

"You mean she escaped?! With who! We have a loose murder on our hands, Batchelder! Do you not comprehend that correctly?" The young man stood still, frozen in front of the chief. His face was drained from all emotion, pale.

"She seemed to have left with...um...a man named Nick! Nick Walker!" I felt his muscles tense beside me, me rubbing his back, trying to soothe his raging emotions. It seemed as both of us wanted to break down that very second.

"Stand down! The suspects aren't here!" Through all the commotion of us not being present in the house, Nick and I managed to escape further, finding an abandoned cabin in the middle of the forest.

"Used to be my mom's. She loved this place. We used to visit each year." He explained, leaving out large chunks of the story through my inspection. Opening the squeaky door to cabin, I was met with a musty smell and the feeling of dust against my thumb.

"Go in. They won't find us here. For now, at least."

**That night!**

I couldn't take it any more. I just couldn't. I'm being hunted down by the police for self-defense. Self-defense! It just wasn't right. But how would they know? How could they tell that Jeb did in fact beat me and I wasn't making it up? I had no proof. None, whatsoever.

Loud cries emitted from my mouth, trying to contain my feelings apparently not working. My body was malfunctioning before me. My hands shaking, my breath quickening. I couldn't and didn't want to live this life. And the worst part...the album was nowhere in sight.

The pictures couldn't hold me back any longer. Mom couldn't control my emotions any further. The blade in my hand, I ran to the bathroom sink. Looking up at the mirror, I saw nothing. Just me. My scraggly hair, my muddy eyes, my cracked lips.

And there I saw on my arm, a smooth patch of skin. It was then that I decided to dig the blade in my flesh, causing blood to pour from the surface. It filled the sink and colored it crimson. Its splattered on the counter, dripping slowly to the edge.

"Max?" I could hear him. Nick. And then I realized what exactly had I done. My arm was completely devoured by the blade, a large incision stretching from the mid-area down to my elbow. Screaming loudly, the padding of footsteps across the wooden floors caught my attention.

"What the hell! Max! What did you do!" His eyes widened, taking off his shirt quickly. If I wasn't so consumed by the cut, I would've described how toned his abs were. But that's beside the topic.

He stretched his black shirt out and wrapped it around my arm, tying it tightly at the end, careful and cautious. I could feel the fabric constrict my circulation, my blood flow cutting off. Heart pounding, eyes blurry, I looked to him and did something I still can't forgive myself for. I...talked.

"T-thank...you..." His mouth dropped open and my brain raged on the question of why. He grasped onto my shoulders tightly and looked me in the eye, eyes clouding with joy.

"You-you talked! Max! You did it! You talked!" He grinned widely, apparently happy. I mean, what's the big deal? I just said thanks...although...I haven't said thanks in over 7 years. Oh.

"I did it! I got you to talk!" He was still going on about it. Geez. What's wrong with this boy?

He leaned over, smile still visible across his face. Eyes plastered with joy, he moved in closer to my face, me doing the same. I didn't know why, but I felt the need to be close to him. I was safe with him. And then he kissed me. On the lips.

I could be gushing like a fan-girl right now about the details. But one thing...It made the life of a 17 year old fugitive hell of alot happier.

**MY PREDICTION! TWAS CORRECT! Hehehehe! Happy! She talked AND got kissed! How bout that for a Fax scene? HAHAHAHA! But...I must warn you. My crystal ball says that...someone evil will return for vengeance. Can you guess who? I'll just leave you with the question...**


	13. Uncle Sam

The dark silhouette of the intruder stood in the house's doorway. Cackles of thunder spread across the dark sky, streams of lightning flashing above. But something...was familiar. About the burglar.

His green eyes flashed, wild and determined. The man was on a mission. To kill. To wreak havoc on the Walker household had been his dream. For a long, long time.

Nicholas screamed loudly, causing his mother to walk in the room. The shadow chuckled darkly, moving closer to Nick's mother, pacing slowly across the room. A metallic pistol in hand, he was prepared. He had been prepared for a while. But one little boy had interrupted his plans.

He wasn't expecting a child to be there, nonetheless a boy. Who looked just like him. His brother always hated the fact that his wife wanted kids. Hated it. So...this little boy...was he a mistake? Most likely. But that wouldn't stop him. Just one more dead body in order.

His brother had stolen his everything. Anne was supposed to be his. This house...was the perfect place. And, they had a little kid. Who happened to look like the child version of him.

Yes, It was time for Uncle Sam to get his revenge.

**Back to the cabin 7 minutes later!**

"Listen...Max...I-I'm sorry. I was...excited. I guess I shouldn't have kissed you or..." I placed my finger to his lips, shushing him. His cheeks flushed, embarrassed. For some reason, he had been talking way more often lately.

"I liked it." My vocal cords had awoken from a long slumber, not used to talking. My lips curled into a smile, Nick's cheeks still a bright red. I pinched the skin where he was blushing and walked slowly to the room I was sleeping in.

"Wait! Max!" Before he could start a conversation on what cheese I liked, I closed the door quickly and locked it shut. No more talking for today.

My arm was still bandaged up with Nick's shirt, black fabric soaked in dry blood, crusty-like. I hated the fact that Nick saw that. He had to see the blood. And did I mention: There was a lot of it. I could still see his wide eyes, staring at the gash strewn on my arm. It made me feel so...guilty.

Poking the bruised wound, I winced slightly as I uncovered it, exposed. It was mostly a dark purple with a few hints of green and brown sporting around it. Ugly was a word that came to mind when taking a peek at the cut.

The blade I used was buried somewhere outside. By Nick. He had insisted that it should be disposed. Although I didn't really miss that crimson-covered object anyway. No blood equals a happy Max.

**Nighttime!**

"Nick?" I kept my voice low, not wanting to overdo the limit of words spoken. I decided at least only 30 a day until further notice. Or until I actually get comfortable with speaking.

"'Sup?" His hand was placed on the door frame, leaning slightly against the wooden walls. A smile graced itself on his lips, making my heart stumble quaintly inside my chest. These feeling things were driving me crazy.

"How long...are we going to stay here?" He rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb, nervousness obvious through his actions.

"As long as we can. Remember, I'm in this as much as you are. We're going to get through this. Together." I nodded grimly, upset that he didn't actually answer my question. Letting it pass, I felt my eyes flutter close, bright lights casting to a black.

"Goodnight, Max." I felt his hands pull the covers over me more tightly, encasing me in a habitat of lavender-scented cotton. Peering through thin slits, my eyes flicked over to a swaying Nick, hesitation obvious. I already knew what he was going to do. Very noticeable indeed.

I sat up, much to Nick's surprise and pulled him in for a kiss. His body was tense for a second, but gave in, starting to kiss back.

"Goodnight..." I whispered silently against his lips, collecting much needed air. I layed back down on the bed and closed my eyes once more, hearing the silent cheers of Nick in the background.

_**Nick P.O.V.**_

Happy. Yes, I am happy. No, scratch that. Ecstatic. I had kissed Max, Max had kissed me. One word to describe this day: Amazing. I realized when I'm around Max, I feel a complete sensation. Like nothing is missing from my life. Except...you know. My Mom, Dad, Sister...basically my whole family.

I still remember the day. The day they got shot. The day Uncle Sam killed Mom and Dad and...Angel. But all that is now pushed behind me, forgotten.

When I first saw Max's scars, I thought it was self-mutilation. I thought she did it to herself. But I was wrong. Partially. And when I found out the real truth...I really wanted to punch her dad...in the gut. The worst part is...Max is being framed. And I can't do anything about it. Just stay on the run beside her. Together, I know Max and Me will get out of this mess.

And I promised myself to be by her side no matter what.

_**Unknown P.O.V.**_

I saw her. This 'Max' lady. She seems to be Nick's girlfriend. Or so it seems. This is even better than planned. I'll take the girl as hostage and kill them both when he comes to save her. Such a tragedy.

Now I can finish my work. The work I came to finish many years ago. Nick Walker will pay for his father's mistakes.

**So surprised No one guessed the mystery guy...By now it must be obvious. But HERE HERE...I GAVE THOU MORE FAX. TIS BACON-ISH! **


	14. Swimming With Nick

**Hello all! Soooo sorry I couldn't update yesterday...I had to study for a stupid social studies test. **

The gun. It was but a few feet from Nicholas. But his body was frozen. The mysterious burglar had his mother, a knife pressuring against her throat, slowly sliding down as she trembled beneath the blade.

Nick had a chance to save his family from the man. But he couldn't. He wouldn't use the gun. He wasn't a murderer. Plus, he didn't even know how to use one.

So there he stood, feet placed firmly in the dark corner of the living room, hiding from the burglar. His mom's cries filled his ears but the worst was yet to come. Baby Angel, just 6 months old, was heard screaming from down the hall.

Anne laid limp on the ground, not moving an inch. Her face pale, hands immovable...heart silent. Next was him. The main target. Dad. A bullet pierced his heart, spewing blood across the kitchen floors. The polished surface of the white tiles now an evil shade of red.

Angel, the most heart-aching of them all. She laid still on the floor, battered and bruised, bloody and silent. No kicks of giggles, no drooling or biting Just a lifeless lump laying across the hall.

"Hellooooooo? Anyone else wanna play?" The creaking of footsteps coming near, Nick's breath hitched. The man killed his family. And now he was coming for him.

Max's room!

The usual day... all the same. The truth be told, It was boring as a fugitive. There was nothing fun to actually do, nothing to waste time away. It was like an endless snooze-fest. The only thing to do was sleep and eat.

Nick bursted into my room, a bikini in one hand and a swim trunk in the other. A smile was plastered across his face, his eyes a pool of excitement.

"Max? Max! Swimming! Lets go swimming!" My eyebrows furrowed, head cocked to the side. I've learned Nick can be a bit...random at times.

"What? Is that your swim suit?" I pointed to the black bikini in his hand, hanging loosely beside him. He rolled his eyes and pushed the swimsuit in my palms.

"No, Max. I get the swim trunks. You get the bikini." To be honest, I wasn't the most self-confident person. So when I saw the tiny...thing...being pushed in my hands, I freaked out a little bit.

"What?! You want me to wear that?!" I gestured to the swimwear, signaling Nick. He sighed exasperatedly and ran a hand through his hair. His long, black, silky- You know what? Nevermind.

"You'll look fine. Just come on. I want to show you something..." I nodded and clutched onto the bikini beside my lazy body. Black rhinestones decorated the sides, golden glitter strewn across the fabric. Not my type of clothing.

Pulling the bottom portion of the bikini up, I realized something. This swimsuit was way too uncomfortable. The first thing that happened when I walked around in it was a wedgie. Stupid thing.

"Maxxxxx! You ready, yet!" I unlocked the bathroom door, ignoring Nick's widened eyes, and stormed out of the cabin. And it just so happened to be a perfect day. Perfect weather, perfect sun. If only my sleep hadn't been interrupted...

"Lets go! Over here!" Nick pointed to a narrow trail driving through the forest. Twigs and clumps of soil stabbed my feet, making my mood grow worse and worse with each step.

And there just had to be mosquitoes. Just had to be. But did Mr. Walker get bit by any? Noooo. Because he wouldn't let me use the bug spray. Jerk.

Red bug bites covered my arms, me trying my hardest not to scratch the affected area. after a couple minutes of thinking, I scraped my fingernails roughly against the bites, scratching them and decreasing the itchiness effectively.

Nick placed his hand on my arm, stopping me from scratching. He leaned in close and whispered lowly in my ear. "Not suppose to scratch, Max." I glared at the smear on his lips, managing not to scream in his face.

"And who's fault is it that I have these stupid bites, anyways?" He pointed to me and I slapped his hand away from my face. Another cloud of bugs feasted on my skin, Nick's containing no red bumps whatsoever.

We kept walking for a while, Nick admiring every little thing:

"Oh look, a tree!"

"Max! A squirrel!"

"Look! A-"

"No shit, Sherlock. Shut up!" I clamped my hand over his mouth, pulling away when he licked my hand. He smirked as I screamed loudly at the drool mark on my hand.

"Why you-"

"Were here!" He interrupted cheerily, running to a lake in front of us. I must say, though. It was beautiful. The water glimmered under the fiery sun, rays stabbing my eyes like swords. Nick cannon-balled of a wooden porch as I stood there, soaking wet from the aftermath of his jump.

"Nick! You got me wet!" He tilted his head back and let out a loud laugh. I fumbled with the bikini string hanging down by my stomach before a cold pair of hands grasped my sides. Nick stood there, holding me over his shoulder like a kid.

"Put. Me. Down!" Drops of water ran down his back, shaking his head free of the water.

"Nope." Before I could scream any such profanity words, a wave of water hit my face. I swallowed a gulp of lake water, coughing and sneezing like crazy.

"Idiot!" I pushed a wall of water toward Nick who was floating in the lake water, peacefully resting with his eyes closed. He jumped up immediately and lost his floating status, water rushing up his nose. It was quite fun to watch him try and get back to the surface.

I laughed as he surfaced, glaring at me angrily. A smile creeped up on his face, stalking toward me and pushing a clump of seaweed behind him.

It was all fun an games...before I felt a pair of rough hands pull me under.

**OHHHHHHH! I WEFT YOU WIFF CWIFFY! MWAHAHAHAHAHA! AGAIN...sorry for not updating yesterday...Ok, bye.**


	15. Uncle Sam's Letter

**So here I am! 1 day late...again. So sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! I feel so baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aad. So un-baconish.**

I felt the taste of lake water rush through my mouth, trying to scream for help. Nick submerged under, violently kicking the man whom was drowning me. But the killer was unaffected by the underwater attacks.

"No! Max!" His voice was distorted through the bubbles, but I was still able to make out the words he was speaking. I thrashed my hands frantically around, slamming my fists against the mystery man's abdomen. But he stood with his hands slowly suffocating me still.

Nick tunneled over, pulling my arm away from the man viciously. Clasping my neck, I felt all air in my lungs drain out of my body. My vision grew hazy, blurry images passing in front of me. Nick clutched onto my shoulders and dragged me up to the surface, me greedily gulping the air above me.

I turned to the dying patch of grass a couple feet away and stepped on the solid ground, morphing the hard soil into mushy mud. A scrawled out letter laid neatly on the surface where Nick and I were sitting. Black ink covered the paper, elegant loops and letters placed perfectly on the straight blue lines.

_I'm coming for you, Nick. And this time I won't fail._

_Love,_

_Your dear Uncle Sam_

Nick's body stiffened greatly beside me as his eyes searched the page nervously. I bit a sliver of skin off my lip, feeling the metallic taste of blood on the tip of my tongue.. I gently placed my palm on his shoulder while skimming through the note.

"Oh my god..." His eyes widened and his grasp on the note lessened, the paper diving into the murderous lake below. He turned his body at an angle so he was now facing me. Grasping my arm softly, he pulled me hurriedly away from the lake.

"We have to go, Max! Now!" The man that drowned me rose from his placement under the water. He eyed me and Nick angrily, starting to sprint in our direction. I screamed, feeling Nick pick me up bridal-style. As he stroked my hair soothingly, I could hear the distinct footsteps of his merging with the sloshing ones of the man's.

"N-nick..." My voice cracked. Fear cackled through my brain, adrenaline pumping through my nerves. He kept his eyesight ahead of him, gasping for air as he ran with me in his arms. We were now losing the man behind us, him stumbling clumsily over the jagged sea of rocks and leaves.

"Were losing him...Keep...Running..." I managed to say through limited breaths, choking and coughing. The cabin was in sight as I sighed with relief. The man no longer behind us, Nick put me carefully back on the ground.

"We lost him." Nick's pants were ragged, bending down, trying to catch his breath. He lifted his head to meet my eyes, fogging up with relief. Elongating his arms, I felt him pull me into a tight hug. I smiled against his chest, sensing the peppermint scent covering his shirt.

"So glad you didn't get hurt." He mumbled into my hair. His chest was still rising and dipping at a fast pace, still shocked of the events that occurred. Pulling away from the hug, I could feel him stroke various strands of my hair, playing with the locks.

"Stop that." I swatted his hands away, seeing his smirk. Nick was officially back. I heard a low chuckle arise from his throat, a smile still plastered onto my lips. He seemed so close to me, only a couple inches separating our standing bodies. He leaned in closer, his hands pulling to him.

Getting impatient, I closed the gap between our lips. Time seemed to slow around us, not sensing the hands on our watches ticking swiftly. His lips were so soft, so warm. When he pulled away, my lips were still tingling, my heart stumbling before me.

"I love you, Maximum Ride." He said, breath tickling my ears. My mouth drooped low and I felt a lump grow in my throat. Sensing a sudden uneasiness, I turned around and ran. Yes, I ran from the boy who admitted his love for me, Maximum Ride.

* * *

No one ever said that to me. Only mom did. No one else. Not that kind, at least. Every night, she would plant little kisses on my forehead and tuck me into bed. When she died, I missed her telling me she loved me each night. I lost that feeling of being wanted in this world.

When Nick said those three words, I wanted to barf. It's not like I didn't like him back...It's just that it brought up memories of the past. And not beloved ones, either.

So there I sat on a random rock in the woods, guilty for running._ I probably made him feel terrible_. Paranoia filled me up, panicking each time I heard a crunch of a leaf or a croak of an animal. My stomach growled loudly, feeling various presences around me.

"Boo." I screamed loudly, swiftly turning around to see who had scared me. Nick was standing there, hands in pockets, staring at my face.

An awkward silence enveloped the space between us. I fixed my gaze on the ground wanting to speak up, but not finding enough courage in me to say anything.

"Listen Max...I'm sorry...For that. I know you're probably don't feel the same way and...I shouldn't have said that-" I clamped my hand over his mouth, feeling him jump at the sudden touch.

"No." I said quietly. He cocked his head slightly and stared at my hand still covering his mouth.

"What?" Confusion bubbled through his voice like a steaming pot of boiling water. I smiled and pulled him into a...hug. **(A/N You were expecting a kiss you say? Hmmmm...)** He smiled greatly as I smelled the familiar smell of mint, Nick's embrace.

"I love you too, Nick Walker."

**Yes! Finally! They admit their love! But...did it really have to take 15 chapters? Yus. Yus it did self. Very very bacon-ish indeed, wouldn't you say so? Hmm? (*Cue British accent)**


	16. The Sprite

**Hello! Sorry for not updating yesterday...I was busy with making another chapter to my other story...so again, sorry. Very very very very very very un-mcnuggetish. Trying out new catch phrases here, *cracks knuckles* Enjoy!**

The morning rays blinded my eyes through the cheap curtains of the motel. Since Nick found the letter on the ground, he insisted we get a move on and leave the cabin. I had asked him who Uncle Sam was, but he refused to tell the tale. So, eventually, I gave up asking. But I didn't stop wondering.

I yawned loudly and rose from the stale mattress below. Nick, lying beside me, squinted slightly. Since there was only on bed in the room, me and Nick had to share. It wasn't that awkward as you might think...maybe just a little bit.

He removed his arm from my waist, rising up from his spot slowly. His eyes flicked over to mine as he elongated his arms, stretching. A smile graced my lips, biting my nails constantly.

"Morning." I said, eyeing the stained carpet. Nick scooted beside me on the creaky bed. I tilted my head to face him then returned my gaze back to the floors. He leaned down and kissed my cheek softly, placing his feet on the ground.

"Morning, Max." Heat radiated from the area on my cheek, tingling from the peck. I groggily rubbed my eyes, taking a stray eyelash away from my face. Spotting my clothes packed in a pile in the corner of the room, I lazily rose from the rock and sauntered over to the duffel bags.

Nick plucked out his clothes, colorless fabric. I grunted distastefully, searching for an actual outfit that wasn't stained with various food items. Nick seemed to notice, handing me a plain black shirt and a pair of shorts.

I held them up like they were a disease, glaring at Nick who looked at the outfit approvingly. "Really?" He cocked his head to the side, and shrugged.

"Yeah. Why not?" He smirked slightly, me stumbling to the bathroom. I grasped the knob and opened the door widely, slamming it shut and locking it.

First off, the shirt he gave me looked like a dress. The shorts hung down to my knees, me trying my best to keep them up. I reached for a belt crumpled up underneath the pile of clothes and wrapped it around my waist, holding up the pants. I ran my finger across the leather accessory slowly, stopping to feel each crack and dent on the belt.

I clutched onto the brass knob once more, seeing a bored Nick sitting on the edge of the bed. He took one look at me and grinned widely, hiding his chuckles. I rolled my eyes and grabbed the strap to my bag, heading for the door. Nick followed behind me, commenting on my clothes every now and then.

"You look good in my clothes." He poked my side, my face heating up rapidly. Snickering was heard from afar as I tried my best to keep a distance from him.

"You're blushing." He whispered into my ear, smiling against my hair. I shoved him away and walked a few more steps away from him. Gosh, was he annoying today.

"Thank you Captain Obvious. Now can you please tell me our next destination before I manage to pull all my hair out?" I shot multiple glares his way, getting the same reaction. His infamous smirk.

"Out. Away...Somewhere..." I widened my eyes, and stopped where I was standing. Tilting my head towards Nick, my lips a straight line. He noticed my uncomfort and strided to my side.

"Him. Nick...It's him!" I pointed to the man who drowned me at the cabin, facing Nick's shocked face. He intertwined his fingers with mine and tugged at my arm, pulling me to the opposite direction of the sidewalk.

"Lets go. Act casual." Nick whispered at the side of me. I nodded agreeingly and pretended to have a conversation with him, as planned. I flicked my eyes to the attacker, who was searching for something, possibly us. No, not possibly. Definitely.

Spotting a Mcdonalds in the distance, I was hesitant on the decision to move or hide. Making up my mind, I pulled Nick's hand to the building.

Arriving at the front of the building, I pulled on the silver handle, feeling the cool touch of the metal across my fingertips. Taking a deep breath, I looked behind me to see if the man was heading in our direction. He wasn't.

The sizzles of the deep fryers and the smell of burgers hit my senses, a wave rushing over it's victim. Easing up, Nick walked over to the line, impatiently tapping his foot on the tile floors.

I glanced at the menu, deciding on a simple Coke. Nick tightened his grip on my hands, looking around for what I presumed the man. He was nowhere in sight, thank god. Deciding on relaxing for a while, I walked up to a lady whom was asking what we wanted.

"A Coke." I mumbled, seeing the lady keeping her eyesight set on Nick.

"And what about you?" A little too flirtatiously said, she batted her eyes at him, Nick rolling his eyes.

"A Sprite." I tilted my head towards him, a sweet smile plastered across his lips. The lady, seeming in her 20s, kept her eyes on Nick, much to my irritation. I grunted distastefully, feeling a sudden lump rise in my throat.

To her surprise and mine, Nick curled his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. The lady, name tag reading "Bridgit", huffed and stormed off to the deep fryers. A somewhat chubby man took her place, and began stacking our plate with the food ordered.

I clutched onto the now complete tray, a Coke and Sprite, and walked to a booth. Nick was the first to sit down on the bright red seat, patting the spot next to him.

I slipped silently on my drink, eyeing my surroundings. Nick seemed a bit off edge also, his drink almost reaching the end. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, trying to relax, but failed.

And then Nick's head slammed on the booth table, out cold. My heart sped up as I frantically shook his limp body. No response. I uncapped his drink, searching for what was wrong. And I found my answer.

****A purple-ish liquid dribbled out of the cup, landing onto the gray counter-tops. Poisoned. He was poisoned.

**A cliffy! Oh no! Nick was poisoned! But by who? Hmmmmm...Ok, bye.**


	17. Temporary

Nick knew something was wrong the minute he took the first sip. The Sprite tasted oddly...bitter. He looked over to Max, images becoming blurry before him. Something wasn't right.

And then he was out cold.

* * *

Bridgit cackled from the kitchen. The sickly vision of the boy unconscious made her burst with joy. The mission was complete. The 'boss' would be very pleased with her work.

Now if she could only slip away without being noticed...

* * *

**Max P.O.V.**

"Someone! Help! My boyfriend's unconscious!" I cupped both hands around my mouth and shouted from my booth. An old lady, frantic looking, handed me her cell phone while quickly pacing her way over to Nick. I grabbed the object and clicked the power button. Taking a deep breath, I dialed 911.

"911, what's your emergency?" It was a man on the other line, his voice calm, relaxed. Biting my lips nervously, I twiddled with my thumbs and began speaking out the situation.

"My boyfriend. He-he's been poisoned. He won't wake up and...I'm just scared." By the end of the statement, my voice cracked, tears spilling out of my eyes. I felt the cool drop spill down my cheek, lapping it up when it landed on my lip.

"Ok, Miss. Try and stay calm. Now where are you exactly?" My breath speeding up, I felt my blood rush to my head, face heating up. My tongue felt like sandpaper, dry.

"Um...Mcdonalds on...**(Replace with Street name desired)**..." I could feel the perspiration growth on my palms increase, my hands gleaming under the cheap lights. The room was filled with tension, everybody's gaze set on the phone in my hand and Nick.

"Ok, Miss. The police are coming your way. Stay calm." I mumbled an 'ok', hearing the officer hang up with a click. And then I realized. Me and Nick were still fugitives. Police were coming our way. Fuck.

* * *

The flashing lights and the loud cries of the ambulance drew nearer, my hand gripping tightly to Nick's limp right palm. His body was still motionless, skin pale and sweaty. Negative thoughts flooded my mind, cramming out all the other available positive ones.

A fairly young woman, dressed in white, strolled out a gurney. Various men packed into the Mcdonalds building, picking up Nick's body and placing him on the bed, oxygen mask placed on his face.

My heart almost stopped seeing him being pushed in the ambulance, but somehow I gained the courage to stay with him in the vehicle. His heart was still beating, monitor at a slow pace. Worry coursed through me, gallons of adrenaline sparking.

I prayed he was going to make it. And I prayed that we could make it out together, leaving the cops behind. But out of those two hopes, the one where Nick be safe overruled the one of getting caught. Because, I already knew, he was more important to me than many things in my life.

Tears non-stop, I was a mess. Without looking in a mirror, I already knew my eyes were a red shade.

I love you, Nick.

I love you so, so much.

Line Break!

**Nick P.O.V.**

I could hear people chattering around me. I could hear Max's sobs. But I couldn't move. Nor see. I just wanted Max not to worry. That's all that filled my mind. Max.

Images of her chocolatey-brown eyes, silky golden hair, beautiful smile, and mostly every aspect of her replayed non-stop.

I love you, Max.

I love you so, so much.

**Max P.O.V.**

He was still unconscious. And I was still by his side. The hospital room was small, cramped. Fake plants placed across the corners of the room, the rubbery textures obvious from afar. His eyes were shut tightly, his face a stoic expression.

"Nick? Please..." I shook his hand slowly. No response. He was hooked up to an IV, and oxygen tube placed under his nostrils. I clutched a handful of baby blue sheets below, wrinkling the fabric. Lifting my hand from the bed rail, I brought my hands to his head, smoothing out his hair. His unkempt hair flattened at the touch of my palms, now the usual silky state.

Sighing, I glanced out the window placed beside his bed. A beautiful view of the horizon stood before me, a swirl of various color seeping together in the sky. I smiled at the beautiful sight, seeing the shades of blue, purple, orange, and yellow.

It almost made me forget that the police were looking for me. Or that my boyfriend could in fact die. Or that sooner or later, I would get caught.

And then a soothing voice interrupted my thoughts, warping me back to reality. "Maxxxxx..."

I gasped silently, turning around quickly. There he was, eyes open, smile plastered across his face. I grinned widely and ran to his bed, wrapping my arms around him, not wanting to let go.

"What...what happened?" His voice was hoarse, rubbing his eyes with his thumb.

"Poison. Someone poisoned you. But...I guess it was just a temporary effect, Thank god." I pecked his cheek, waiting for him to process what I had just told him. His eyes widened, obsidian irises decked with a worried look.

"Wha-How? Are you ok?" He lifted my arms frantically, looking around the surface of my skin. I giggled and shook my head, still ecstatic he was awake.

"Ms. Ride?" Facing the voice, I was met with two officers surrounding the doorway. My mouth agape, I flicked my eyes to a shocked Nick. He sat up on the bed, pulling my hand to his.

"Put your hands in the air. You're under arrest arrest."

**Ok , to clarify something: I have no frickin clue what officers say when they arrest you. I'm just winging it. So there. Sorry for a possibly-crappy chapter. And sorry for the late update. I'm having a bit of family-drama right now, but I will still continue the story. The next chapter will be posted about 1 or 2 days from now. Oh, and this story will be about 25 chapters, just to let you know. Thanks for all the reviews, views, follows, and favorites so far! I'm almost at 10,000! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!**


	18. The Leather Journal

**Thank you to the people who explained to me what cops say when they arrest you (MaximumAngel1, gandalf53). Due to my laziness, I was unable to google it. I really think my addiction to South Park is affecting me =.= ENJOY! FOR I AM BRINGING YOU A NEW CHAPPY!**

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you." The paining touch of the handcuffs snaked around my wrists, constricting my blood flow.

"Wait! Max didn't do it!" The officer paused for a moment, gazing at Nick. He scratched his head with his hand, irritation masking his face.

"Her fingerprints are all over the crime scene, sir. We have proof." The officer took a step into the hallway, his black shoes clicking against the tile floors.

"But In self-defense! Her dad was attacking her." Nick turned to me for reassurance, me slowly nodding my head.

"What about the young lady? The women with the father?" The cop's voice was filled with uncertainty. Sighing, I angled my eyesight to the man holding my arm down.

"She was attacking me too! She was!" My throat ached, feeling a burning sensation arise.

"Where's the evidence? The proof?" I gulped. Technically, there was none. And sensing defeat not far away, I pulled my thin jacket off. Scars covered my arms, pink and fading. Even ones from long ago still remained, printed permanently on my skin, a shameful tattoo.

"My scars. I was abused. By Jeb, my dad." The officer's eyes widened slightly, realization clouding his irises. He coughed awkwardly and turned to Nick, his weak form sitting up on the hospital bed.

"I'm sorry. But even this is scarce evidence. There's really no potential way to see if he was or did abuse you." I gasped suddenly, feeling an invisible light bulb grow atop my head.

"The book! At my house! The book!" I grinned widely, Nick frowning confused-like.

"What book?" Unclenching my hands, I felt a sudden ease crowd my fingertips. The cuffs were uncomfortable still, but at least I could feel with my palms.

"I...kept a journal. Til' I was 14. Of him...the abuse." I felt my voice grow weaker and weaker, fully whispering at the end.

"If you can get that journal...Then you have enough to free the charges of murder against you." Nodding grimly, felt a sudden wave of panic was over me.

I had no idea where the book was.

* * *

Riding in a police car was very uncomfortable. Riding in a police car without Nick was saddening. But riding in a police car without Nick and a pair of handcuffs wrapped around my wrists...was torture.

Plus, I could hear the fuzzy calls of the cops calling each other through the radios. And believe me I think they were abusing their privileges. No one needs to know that there's a sale on ice cream at Baskin Robbins. Just saying. Cookies, however...That's another story.

"Is this your house?" He pulled over against a gravel patch. It was indeed my house. The rusty, disgusting, dirty, cheap place I could call home. Sigh. I nodded slowly, feeling a rush of wind against my skin as the cop opened the door.

Through the corner of my eye, I saw a familiar patch of strawberry-blonde hair. Iggy. I grinned at him and attempted to wave through my handcuffs, failing. A look of disgust filled his face as he marched in the opposite direction of the sidewalk. I felt a sudden twang of sadness surplus my heart, rejection attacking my thoughts. Harsh.

He probably saw all the news reports. Yay.

* * *

The musty smell of my room surrounded my nostrils. I cringed my nose, disgusted, and bent over to look under my bed. The officer was waiting in the hallway, tapping his foot impatiently on the carpet.

.Pieces of crumpled papers and various items pummeled on my arm, weighing it down against the floors of my bedroom. I brushed the objects aside, trying my best not to scream in frustration.

Through all the things hidden under my bed, I couldn't find the leathery-textured book I needed. Everything was so cluttered and disorganized, a wave of trash clashing with the bed above.

I pulled my palms away from the shadows, burying my face into them. A tear slipped through the corner of my eye, running down my cheek slowly.

This was it.

I couldn't find the book.

**Nick P.O.V.**

I bit my lip worriedly. Hoping Max was alright, I grasped the styrofoam cup next to me and took a small sip of water. A relieving sensation washed over me as I indulged in the cooling touch of the liquid running down my aching throat.

It took awhile to realize I was poisoned. And when I did, I was to selfless to worry about me, but Max. Was she okay? Was she poisoned, too?

Hearing her tell me those words, I felt a rush of panic course throughout me that moment. I knew it was Sam. And I knew he was back. Max may have found it annoying for me to be a bit protective of her...But for her safety, it was completely necessary.

I flicked my gaze constantly on random objects in the room, searching for any sign of nurses or nearby doctors. None.

Feeling a sudden wave of uneasiness boil beneath me, I swiftly wiped a leaking drop of sweat away from my forehead.

Pressing my 'Help' button on my remote, I waited for the nurse to come by and ask if I was alright. But no nurses came. The button didn't even light it's usual blue-ish glow.

Something was up.

And before I could get up, I felt a knife pressure against my throat, suffocating me.

"I've missed you Nicholas."

**OH NO! NOOOOOOOOO! HEHEHE!... Bad luck for Nicholas... Sorry for all the cliff-hangers...but... I mean come one! They create the plot! If it wasn't for them, it wouldn't keep you on the edge of your seats, which is what I aspire to do. So, thanks for everyone and their views and all! I'm so thankful! This has been my most popular fanfic thanks to you all! I hope you enjoy my fanfic for the rest of the time I make it!...Ok, Bye.**


	19. Author's Note

**This is just an Author's Note, but a new chapter will be posted early morning tomorrow. **

**First off, I'm very sorry for the lack of updates. I usually update my stories daily but lately, I haven't. Since it was Father's Day today, I had to spend time with my dad. But the other days I could've updated and I didn't, were my fault. I was too lazy to type and my internet was extremely slow. So, sorry for all the people who read this story and expected an update. I promise one tomorrow I just felt like I needed a chapter to explain why there hasn't been a new chapter up.**

**If you read this, Thank you. Please don't be too upset that this isn't a chapter. Again, very sorry.**

**A Carnival Of Idiots On Show**


	20. Story Time

**Nick P.O.V.**

The knife pressured further and further against my throat. I could feel his rough hands holding the object against my neck, blood pooling slowly. He chuckled lowly, grabbing a handful of my hair. Yanking my head, he dragged me out of bed, shoving me to the suspiciously empty halls.

Very...peculiar.

"Where are you taking me?" I still didn't know how he managed to empty the whole hospital, but seeing a bloody nurse sprawled across the floor gave me a bit of a hint.

"We're going home, Nicholas." My eyes widened slightly, squirming in his grasp. Struggling and trying not to exhibit my fear, I kept my gaze on anything but him.

"You're crazy." My jaw clenched tightly, fists balled up beside me. He laughed, the sound of his voice echoing through the halls.

"I know."

**Max P.O.V.**

I was in a frantic state.

A panicked state.

A...desperate state.

"Ma'am? You in there?" The officer knocked faintly on the wooden doors of the bathroom. Muttering a 'yes', I clasped onto the rails of my escape route. The window mom installed, hidden behind a wooden panel. She told me it was our little secret. Not even Jeb knew.

Tiptoeing on the porcelain toilet seat, I tried my best to keep my feet out of the toilet water. Clutching the sides of the wooden panel blocking the window, I silently pulled the block of wood away from the wall.

"Ma'am? Are you alright in there?" Sweat trickled down my forehead as I once again heard the faint knock on the bathroom door. Sighing, I laid the wood panel on the sink counter.

"Yeah. Just...bad stomach ache and all. Woman stuff. You wouldn't understand." I stroked the sides of the window, not wanting to scream out in frustration. Spotting the lock, I turned the first one slowly. Three more laid in front of me. Ugh.

"Oh...uh...okay?" His fingers tapped against the hallway impatiently. An awkward silence enveloped the distance between me and the officer, twisting the third lock on the window. One more. Just keep him stalled.

Luckily, stalling was one of my specialties.

"What's your name again?" I asked, thinking of tactics to keep him from getting suspicious.

"Dylan. Dylan Batchelder." **(A/N Is that how you spell the last name? Cuz I dun know...)**

"Dylan? Do you like bacon?" Finally grasping onto the fourth lock, I turned the brass knob. Just like that the window collapsed, clattering against the tile floor.

"What was that? What's going on?" My hand trembled, peering down at the shattered window.

"Uh, nothing. Just knocked over some...Womenly stuff." Placing my hand through the now-opened window space, I grasped onto the other side of the house. The feeling of fresh air hammered against my hand, relief coursing through me.

"Oh. And to answer your question, I do like bacon." Grumbling out a 'meh', I swung my leg into the small opening of my escape route.

"It's been nice chatting with you, Dyl. But sadly, It looks as though I'm going to have to...go." Jumping out of the house, the leafs of the forest crunched beneath my feet. While Dylan was yelling various profanity words, I was busy striding into the forest grounds.

Run, Max. Just Run. And so I did.

**Nick P.O.V.**

"Now Nicholas, do you recognize this book?" He held up a leather covered booklet, the item obviously worn out. I tried to get up from the chair he strapped me down to, but the duct tape was too strong.

"No, Sam. I don't." I hissed, feeling my insides boil from anger. We were in my old house. The house he murdered my mom and dad in. The knife in his hand glinted, him placing it on a nearby nightstand.

"Really now? Because I think someone might." And with that statement, he showed me the first page of the book. Max's scrawled out handwriting spread across the pages. Maniacal laughs protruded from his mouth, obviously enjoying my reaction.

"You...you...Bastard!" But his laughter didn't stop. He had Max's journal. The only thing keeping her away from the orange jumpsuits. Turning one of the frale pages in the journal, he grabbed a pair of glasses from the stand he placed his knife on.

"Story time, dear Nicholas."

* * *

_Max's Journal_

_2/5/10_

_He did it again. He beat me once more. This has been the 12th time. I can see the blood forming around my cuts, the shards of glass stabbing my side. This time he used a glass beer bottle instead of the whip._

_I want to die. I want to just end it all. But seeing how much Jeb hurts me, I think he'll beat me too it. Sometimes I wonder why. Sometimes I just pray that it's just nightmare. But it isn't. It's reality. It's my reality. And I hate it._

_So I cut. I cut profusely. For the bullies at school. For mom. For Jeb. For...everything. Because no one cared. No one ever wondered why little Max sits alone at lunch time._

_Nicholas Walker and his friends just laugh. They don't question me, they don't know me. But somehow, they seem to judge me. I don't own a Facebook. I don't own a Twitter. Because, even if I did, cyberbullying would add to the list of why I cut too._

_But "Fang" as his friends call him ignores me when I tell him and his gang to stop. They push me, they hurt me. Like Jeb. Everyone is the same. Because, once again I say, no one cares._

_Writing seems to ease my emotions a bit. I just have to hide this from Jeb before he burns it. The one thing I can vent to is writing. I can rely on it to help me. Unlike the people around me._

_Crappy as ever,_

_Max_

* * *

He did it on purpose. He read that exact page purposely. Because it mentioned me. And Max. And Jeb.

I felt like crying when I heard those words being spoken out from Sam. I wanted to run to Max and tell her how sorry I was over and over again. Because no matter how hard I tried, the past was still there. And I couldn't change it.

But seeing as that that would give Sam satisfaction (And I'm not known for crying much) I kept my emotions bottled up beneath me. Sam smiled wickedly at me, flashing his stained teeth. Cringing in disgust, I faced the windows as he read pages and pages of her diary. And that was the worst torture of all. Even the knife didn't compare to how much the words of her journal attacked me.

I just wanted Max to be safe. I wanted to be by her. To protect her. But noticing how tied up to the chair I was, Impossible was a word that came to mind.

"So, Nick. Let's get this over with. Nice and clean. No blood, no mess."

And that's when Max tackled him to the floor.

**Bwahahaha! Muahahaha Mwahahaha! Trying out different evil laughs because...IT'S A CLIFFY! It's alive! It's aliveeeeeee! HAHAHA! Ok, I good. Sigh. See, I promise chappy, you get chappy. And this one in particular was a bit longer than the other ones sooo...your welcome...**

**So...in addition to this chapter, I have a question in order for all of you...Ahem *clears throat* *Grabs fancy monocle thingy***

**Dylan said he likes bacon...Do YOU like bacon? Hmmm? Do you? Do you? Huh, huh? Do you? You know you want to answer. You know...because...the force compels you too. That's why. So ha.**


	21. The Napkin Note

**Max P.O.V.**

My lungs were about to burst. I had been running for an hour now. And during the little 'jog', I did not stop for drinks. But really, I didn't care. One thing and one thing only was on my mind.

I needed to see Nick.

The hospital was eerily quiet, no nurses or anyone in particular around. I felt my stomach vibrate below me, echoing through the halls. Each step made me feel more and more that I was in the wrong place. But, looking up at the neon signs above my head, they all read the familiar title of the hospital Nick was supposed to be in.

And then I screamed. Loudly.

Across the floor, the crimson-stained tiles I should say, was a gory scene before me. A nurse sprawled across the floor, gashes and bullet wounds covering every inch of her skin. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

More and more bodies appeared in front of me, all the same words to describe each picture. Bloody and messy.

1064. Room 1064 **(A/n Made that number up by myself. SO proud! *Hint sarcasm*)** was the room. The room where I was anxious to see if Nick was alright, unlike the...others.

But peering in the dimly lit room, no one was to be seen. Nothing except a napkin. With Nick's writing scrawled across the surface. Trembling, I latched onto the object, carefully reading and rereading each word precisely.

_To: Max_

_**(Selected address you peeps desire. Can't think of one for Nick's original home..)**_

My heart stumbled slightly as I slowly turned the napkin over. My eyes widened, holding back a gasp. Getting up from the floor, I ran to the nearest exit of the hospital, writing in hand.

On the back of the napkin, was three distinct letters.

_S.O.S._

**Nick P.O.V. (Present time)**

An then Max tackled him to the floor.

"Max!" I screeched from my seat, ripping the duct tape constricting me down. Looking back to me, she smiled happily, warm brown eyes lighting up the atmosphere. Kind of.

I ran to Sam, kicking his stomach as hard as I could. Max was backed into a corner, watching the scene before her. Sighing, I strided my way over to Max, only to be met with Sam punching me down to the ground.

He rose his knife up high, beginning to bring it down to my chest. Struggling to avoid the blade, I kept my hand tightly coiled around his wrist, trying to get the knife out of his grasp. All the while Max was trembling in the corner.

Grunting, I managed to push him away from me, punching him across his jaw. I smirked, satisfied with the 'crack' that came after. And then Max ran to him. With a silver tray **(Hehe)**, bashing it against his head multiple times. By the time she was done I noticed 3 things:

1. Sam was unconscious

2. The tray was dented

3. Max had been quite terrifying during that moment

Max dropped the tray on the ground, gazing back up to me. Her eyes were rimmed with tears, her skin as pale as the nighttime moon.

Before I could step closer to her, she captured me in a tight hug. Surprised, I slowly wrapped my arms around her shaking body, rubbing her back repeatedly.

"I couldn't...find the b-book. They're going to take me away to jail." She whispered quietly. My face lit up, detangling her from me temporarily. She looked confused, me grabbing the leather book placed on the nightstand where Sam had left it. It took her a second to process, running again to me, planting a long kiss on my lips.

And then I realized just how much I missed Max in the couple of days she was gone. Tremendously. Pulling away from the kiss, she kept her arms still around me, the tight hugging continuous.

"Sam read it. The journal. He read a certain...passage to me." Max fixed her gaze on my eyes, probably expecting what was coming.

"I'm so, so sorry, Max. I never thought during those days that it hurt so much to you..." I trailed off. Max placed her finger against my lips, shushing me. She rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to speak.

"Nicholas Walker, can you please shut up about that? That was the past. This..." She gestured to both of us. "Is the future. I don't want to keep saying I forgive you so this is the last time. I forgive you, okay?" I nodded understandingly, and leaned in for another kiss.

I wanted to tell her so much that very moment. About my past, realizing that I never told her. About just how much she meant to me, about...anything I could get off my mind. But I ignored it. Because I decided to just live the moment now. It was too priceless to wreck.

Our lips moved in sync, everything around us slowing its pace. I snaked my hands around her waist, pulling her even closer to me. Her hands tangled themselves in my hair, angling our heads to deepen the kiss. I never wanted this to stop. Ever.

But Sam stopped it for us.

Because on the floor, curled up in a ball, was Max. And a knife stabbing her side.

_"No!"_

**Hehehe. I bring forth another cliffy! Will Max live? Will Max die? Will Sam become magically decapitated like he deserves? WHO KNOWS! ONLY THE NEXT CHAPTER CAN BRING US THE ANSWER...so you'll have to just wait I guess...Oh well...Hehehehe.**

**Anyways, I realized something. My author's notes need a little pizazz (even though I'm already pizazz-y enough, right? RIGHT?!) So, without further ado...GUESS THAT SONG (I'm so cliche...) But! BUT BUT BUT BUT! I don't know why I said but...buttttttttttttt (Hehe...but...)**

**Cue the lyrics! *Puts on sunglasses***

**Written in graffiti on a bridge in a park**

**'Do you ever get the feeling that you're missing the mark?**

**'It's so cold, it's so cold**

**It's so cold, it's so cold**

**Written up in marker on a factory sign'**

**I struggle with the feeling that my life isn't mine...AND END!**

**LET ZE GUESSES BEGIN!**


	22. Flatlined

**Max P.O.V.**

I clutched my side, screaming.

He continued to puncture me with the knife, aiming now for my legs now.

"No!" Nick screeched, lunging for the sprawled-out Sam. His eyes were wide and angry, snatching the knife away. I tried to hold in the painful gasps, but seeing that my shirt was soaked in blood, how could I not?

I rolled over on my back, glaring at the scene before me. My head spun, my surroundings a kaleidoscope of gore.

All I could recall left was Nick beating the crap out of Sam. Sweat poured down my forehead, colliding with the dried blood across my temple.

Biting my lip, I lifted my pants up, feeling the many bullet wounds on my legs, all gushing. I cried, but no tears left my eyes. My tongue dry, I felt the room tremble, losing consciousness.

"Max? Max!" Nick shook my shoulders, violently searching his pockets for an item. His phone. Typing 911, he stood up, pacing across the floors.

And soon enough, I drifted into a deep sleep.

**Nick P.O.V.**

"911, what's your emergency?" I pinched the bridge of my nose, heart pounding through my chest. Trying not to let my voice crack, I managed to voice out the situation to the woman on the other line.

"M-my girlfriend was stabbed. She's losing blood..." Breath hitching, I glanced back to Max, now in an unconscious state. Her eyes were closed, lips formed into a thin straight line.

"Try to stay calm, m'kay sir? Now, tell me the where exactly you are..." Her voice had a hint of a southern twang to it, confused on how the operators could stay so calm. Taking a deep breath, I explained the the location, hearing a shuffle of papers on the other side.

"Thank you, paramedics are on their way." I clicked the phone shut, running then crouching beside Max. Her form was limp, grasping onto her still hand.

"You're going to be okay Max. Just-just stay alive. It's gonna be...alright." Her eyes flickered slightly as I placed my index finger on her wrist. A slow pulse emanated, keeping me even more frightened.

Sam had killed my family. But not Max...

Not Max too...

**Sam P.O.V (Dun-Dun-Duuunnnnnnnnn)**

I feigned unconsciousness, satisfied with Nick's fear-filled voice. This 'Max' girl was too easy to kill. So weak, yet so meaningful to Nick. This would surely break him.

Then my plan would be complete.

**Max P.O.V. (15 minutes later...)**

I felt arms picking me up, setting me down. I heard wails, sirens blaring. I felt the red and blue flashing, even beneath my closed eyes.

But one thing I could tell for sure. Nick's hand in mine. It was the same calloused, rough hand that helped me through it all. And it's the same calloused hand I would miss the most If I did die.

"I love you, Max." I heard him say, whispering into my ear. But I couldn't speak. For some reason, my brain wouldn't allow it. And it was heartbreaking hearing his voice crumble during that statement. Because I wanted to scream 'I love you' just as much, back.

I could feel the ambulance moving, aching beneath my immovable body. Muttering of doctors arose from around me, an oxygen mask placed over my face. Cords, cords, and more cords. Beeping of machines, more strolling around, muttering more. The same things heard over and over.

And something unexpected. Nick crying.

**Nick P.O.V.**

Max's journal in hand, I paced around the waiting room. I hadn't expected to cry so much. Just maybe a tear. But when one leaked out, It all came falling down.

Max was dying. It was the same thing all over again.

The doctors wouldn't let me see her during her surgery, the removal of the bullets. It was a 50% chance she'll live. Which means it was also a 50% chance for her to die, also.

I sobbed in my hands, surprised at just how wet my palms were, drenched with tears. Never had I cried this much. Not even when Mom and Dad flatlined. I just remained emotionless that day, my soul sucked out from beneath me.

Nothing mattered anymore that day. Nothing. Hence why I became a bully, pushing other people around, ignoring my own feelings. Because I didn't want to show fear any longer.

I prayed till my voice was hoarse that Max'd be alright. That we were going to live happily ever after. But I also prayed the same thing for my parents. And look how that turned out.

Just this time please be different. Let Max live.

Let Max live.

**Max P.O.V.**

I had weird dreams. About me. And Nick.

We were soaring in the sky, together, hand in hand. And the odd thing was...we had wings. Nick's were like a raven, matching his obsidian eyes. But mine were more..different. My wings gleamed under the sunlit sky, white tipped with a light brown, coffee colored spots speckled across the feathers.

And then I fell. I just plummeted.

And my dream ended. Just like that.

I knew I had died.

**Nick P.O.V.**

I couldn't take it anymore. I ran to Max's room, opening it slightly. Ignoring the protests of the nurses behind me, I peered into the dimly lit room. And my heart stopped.

Her monitor in a continuous beep, She had flatlined.

Max had died.

**She died! SHE WHAT? OH NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! But yet again, I know you hate me soooooo, now announcing winner of lyric contest! MaximumAngel1...I bid thee with virtual cookies, bacon, and waffles. Congrats for getting it right! HURTS LIKE HEAVEN WAS THE ANSWER BY COLDPLAY! Hehehe. Gotta love caps. And cliffies. MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! *Dramatic soap opera music* Ohhh yeahhhh. Thas how I rollllll!**

**Looks like this situation *Puts on sunglasses***

**Just got a whole lot messier.**

**CAN'T BELIEVE IT's ALREADY THE 22nd CHAPTER! OH NO! 3 TOO GOOOOO!**

**Plz dun hate me :3 **


	23. Iggy Returns

**So here's the redone chapter. I thought that the original one didn't match the plot...OK, ENJOY!**

**Max P.O.V.**

A dark atmosphere blurred my vision, sending a wave of nausea over me. The unclear presence of the people around me caused my head to spin, the light of the room fading slowly.

I felt my eyelids slowly seep down, my eyelashes fluttering closed. All I wanted was to take a big gulp of air and engulf the feel of living again. But seeing death overtake my body, impossible it must've been to revive that sensation.

It was truly torture. To hear the beeping of the I.V. colliding with Nick's shouts was too overwhelming. It was if as I was living, yet dead at the same time. I could hear them, but I couldn't move nor see. My senses were swiftly dripping from my grasp.

I tried moving my arm, but it stayed numb. My thumb wouldn't twitch, my fingers wouldn't shift. I was trapped in my lifeless body, forced to hear the clanging of the steel tools stabbing me. I knew there was blood, but for some reason, I couldn't see.

And then my thumb stirred. And I could lap up the taste of air once again, greedily as I went. But soon after I did in fact intake that breath, I felt a surge of pain in my abdomen. Once again, I was living. I didn't know how, or in fact why, but my heart started pumping loudly through my chest.

The doctors cheered and I could hear Nick gasp a loud breath from the door. It was as if I could almost feel him smiling from afar. Rubber was pressed against my skin, the slapping of gloves filling the thick tension in the room.

A needle pierced my gash, slowly moving in and out. The surgeon was stitching my wound ever so slowly, myself crying in agony. I wasn't fully knocked out. Screaming and yelling didn't work, and my legs weren't functionable. But at least I was alive.

And I was finally going to get my happy ending.

**Nick P.O.V.**

**(A/N Since most of you probably read the original chappy, I won't go into detail of how she was revived. Basically, if you didn't read it, she got adrenaline pumped into her heart. SOOOOO HERE YOU GO! Nick's P.O.V.)**

I let a rough breath drag out through my nostrils, exhaling loudly. The madness was over. It was finally over. I ran a hand through my dirt-caked hair, reminding myself to wash up later.

The nurses said I couldn't see Max till she was feeling better. Which, by the way, was approximately 3 days time. Much too long to wait.

Sighing, I grasped a white lab coat from the closet restricted for doctors only. I already knew how stupid I was, but I also knew that this plan was to see Max. Slipping my shoulders into the oversized sleeves of the coat, I trudged into the hall, searching for the number of her room.

Scanning the plates on the doors leading into the rooms quickly, I made sure to block my face with the clipboard when a short, pudgy nurse walked my way.

My heart thrummed a jagged beat against my chest, anxious of the fact that I could get caught. The more my feet made their way to Max, the more doctors and nurses filled the halls.

And then I saw it.

Number 2053 **(A/N CREATIVE NUMBER THINKING ALERT! YAY!).**

And taking a deep breath, I opened the door.

**Max P.O.V.**

The surgery aftermath was painful. And by painful, I mean excruciating. My uncomfortable hospital gown wrapped securely around me, exposing my sides, much to my dismay. Flopping over so I could reach the remote, I flicked my fingers over to the number pad, typing in the desired channel.

"Max?" Angling my head towards the door, I bit back a holler. Standing a few feet from me, was a lurking stranger striding nearer to my bedside.

Gasping I threw my styrofoam cup at the person's head, hearing a whine of frustration.

"It's me! Nick!" Another gasp escaped my throat as I saw his familiar figure pick up the cup from the floor. Grunting, he tossed the object away and grabbed a seat, placing himself next to me.

"How're you doing?" His irises motioned towards my stitched wound, obviously asking if I was alright.

"Besides the fact that my whole side is torn up, I'm perfectly fine." My voice dripping with sarcasm, I could feel him rolling his eyes beside me.

"Can I see the, um, wounds?" Nodding slightly, I unwrapped a small portion of my hospital gown to expose the stab wounds on my stomach, purple and ugly. His eyes widened, before placing his head in his palms.

"This is my fault. It's all my fault. He shouldn't have hurt you. It was me he wanted to harm." His voice was quiet, whispering in the silent atmosphere. I reached over the bed, ignoring the pain, and grasped his hand from his head, intertwining it with my lonely fingers.

He smiled sweetly at me, focusing his attention on the TV. The silence wasn't awkward. It was...comforting.

"Max?" I looked up from my head placed on Nick's firm shoulder. And saw Iggy.

With a gun pointing directly at us.

**Isn't it funny? The original version he had flowers, but in the redone one he had a gun. Ahhh, the wonders of how odd my creativity can be sometimes. ANYWAYS...Hope you liked this chappy better. I sure did. The last one just made me...uncomfortable.**

**Like eating cereal without milk. *Shivers* Blechhhhhhhhhhhh. And eating pancakes without syrup. EESHHHHHHHH. And as I mentioned in the original chappy's author note, I was gone for a week with my family and no internet was available at the time so I couldn't type a new fanfiction to my chapter. SUPER LONG SENTENCE ALERT! BOO YAHHHH!**

**I GOT SKILLS BITCH!**


	24. Author's Note 2

**HELLO ALL!**

**Tis but me and my awesome typing-ness. And I am here with a redone chapter. Because the other one was hamster crap. So I have a redone chappy no. 23. Please reread it and tomorrow I will have a new chapter up in the afternoon. Thank you for reading my fanfiction so far all you peeps out there!**

**A Carnival Of Idiots On Show **

**And now I will let my amazing writer, Mylo (my hamster) type a story on my keyboard:**

**tv**

**sssssssss7-ttttf6azn ju bmyy76hg0j6 rfeeeeibee gee98]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]] ]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]**

**Give it up for Mylo everybody! And her amazing story writing! I think I just might cry...*sniffle* Beautiful piece of work...**


	25. Father & Son

**WELL DARN, DO I FEEL STUPID. I googled more about hospital thing-a-ma-jiggers and I found out that the frickin IV is not the heart thing. That thing is called a stupid heart monitor. SO HERE I AM STATING MY THANKS TO WIKIPEDIA FOR MAKING ME FEEL LIKE A DUMB ASS. Sigh. ONTO LE CHAPTER!...curse you wikipedia! CURSE YOU! Blechhhh. Extremely long AN...blechhhhhhhhhhhh. Random sentence making..fgdsigfdsuygfvygds...blechhhhh. Gilgyuheihgosahg...**

**Iggy P.O.V.** (All will be explained! Prepare for an upcoming mind-blowing moment. Seriously, prepare yourselves. I'm serious. DO IT QUICKLY! BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!)

I gulped loudly, sending my Adam's apple bobbing up and down my throat. Revenge clouded my thoughts, stabbing the bit of common sense I had left. I was in love with Max. But she was in love with Nick. Whom I was suppose to kill.

You see, Nicholas was a sworn enemy of my family, always bringing up chaos and disorder among my parents. They too hated the Walker family with a passion, planning one day to kill him with a push of a trigger. And they're plan...was to send me to finish the dirty work. Which was, in fact, bashing the living soul out of Nicholas.

But you see, that was the problem. Because I didn't want to kill Nick. I'd hurt Max in the process. Which was something I had to avoid at all costs.

But seeming as I was forced into this by my father, I relied upon poison to do the trick. But that Bridgit girl I paid didn't mix enough into his drink, making the effects temporary.

Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair, rubbing my eyes with my index finger constantly. It was now or never.

It was time for payback.

To avenge my father, Sam Walker's, arrest. **(*Cue le gasp*)**

**Max P.O.V.**

Iggy. With a gun. Pointed directly at Nick.

Hence why I'm not considered an average girl.

"Whoa. Iggy. What's going on?" Nick spoke up, breaking the silence in the room. The tension thick, floating freely amongst our now trembling figures as Iggy held the gun in our faces.

"Payback." I narrowed my eyes at him, his blue eyes filled with angst. No longer filled with the happy emotion once held in his irises. He mumbled a few words under his breath, locking the door to the room, my head cocking to the side slightly.

Nick had swung a protective arm over my body, trying to shield me from Iggy, who was now loading the gun with what seemed to be bullets. I gasped loudly, seeing Nick's widened eyes.

Oh how stupid was I to even think of happily ever afters.

They don't exist. At least not in my life.

Iggy turned to face me, angling his body at my still figure. A malicious grin tugged at his lips, striding to my bedside. I tried to swallow, but my throat was so dry, it hurt. He licked his lips, staring at me suggestively, Nick stiffening and slowly rising from his chair.

"Iggy..." I said slowly, cautious of the weapon glued into his palms. My fists were balled at the side of me, sweating from the fear welling up inside of me. Not again. This can't be happening.

"I'm not here to hurt you, Max." Iggy stated simply before pressuring the gun into Nick's temple.

"I'm here for him." Nick's mouth hung low, slowly gulping. Before Iggy could pull the trigger against Nick, I had managed to steer his aim at the wall, knocking me off the hospital bed. A loud crash was heard as the bullet slammed into the ceiling, unable to get up from the spot I was in.

My legs wouldn't budge.

I poked the smooth skin of my calf, hoping to feel the touch of my fingers. But no such reaction occurred. Loud clangs of items crashing from the ground arose, glancing up at the brawling Nick and Iggy.

I wanted to get up. I wanted to feel the floor against my soles, the dust rubbing against my toes. Forced to stay low on the ground, I grasped the gun Iggy dropped on the bed, the touch of metal colliding with my moist hands.

Taking a deep breath, I searched the floor for Iggy's feet, aiming at his legs. Nick grunted loudly, trying to push Iggy away. But Iggy, now holding a shard of broken glass in his hand, had the upperhand.

A wave of nausea hit me as I struggled to control my strength enough to shoot the gun. By now, Iggy had the shard trailing against Nick's neck, drawing lines of blood on his throat. I needed to hurry up.

With a loud scream, I unleashed the bullet against Iggy's leg, seeing him clutch the wound from the aftermath. Dizziness overtook my head, my wounds on my legs opening up, spilling out crimson-colored liquid across the tile.

"Max! Oh, god..." Sirens blared from outside, clads of footsteps rushing to my room. Iggy just layed there, smiling smugly as a cop pushed him against a wall.

And it all faded.

**Nick P.O.V.**

"Tell me she's alright. Please, tell me." I begged the masked surgeon who was now examining Max's legs carefully. He held up a finger to my face, shushing me, carefully re-stitching the wounds that opened up.

"She'll be alright but-" Before he could finish, I placed my hand over my heart, relieved. All I needed to know was that Max was okay.

"Sir, I'm not finished. I was going to say the condition of her legs."

"And?" Biting my lip roughly, I ushered him to move on with his statement.

"Her muscles aren't functioning correctly." He explained pushing a patch of Max's skin down.

"I'm afraid she'll no longer be able to walk."

**Oh crap! OH NOOO! She's paralyzed?! OH CURSE YOU SICK CREATIVITY OF MINE!**

**Hehehehehehehe...sorry?**

**Just forever alone me sitting down and watching The Avengers on dvd. Ahhhhhhh, the life.**

**Plz dun hate me...I mean...She is alive, right? Sooooooo...**


End file.
